Division of Power
by Pyrrhical
Summary: AU. Nine years after being taken by Death Eaters, Harry Potter is found, but with no memories. Fearing he is a threat, Harry is sent away to Durmstrang while his twin brother attends Hogwarts. Now the two finally meet with the Triwizard tournament approaching. As prophecies are fulfilled and fates collide, all Harry wants to do is figure out what Voldemort did to him. ON HIATUS.
1. Cold

"No one is born evil, but a few mistakes and sadly, the rest falls into place. Alas, this is the world we live in."  
-Darrow Starkov

* * *

Cold. Everything was so cold. And dark. He could not see a shred of light, not even when he waved his hands in front of his face.

Was he blind?

He closed his eyes in concentration and tried to remember. Every nerve in his body trying to focus on his memory, trying to recall images of the past. There was nothing, nothing but a blank in his memory. In fact, everything was a blank in his memory. What was his name? Blank. Where was he? Blank. How did he get here? Blank. Did he like sushi? Blank.

Strange. He knew what sushi was, but not how it tasted or how it looked. That was how it was for most things he tried to think of. He knew what they were, but couldn't remember anything else about it.

Maybe he had hit his head, gotten a concussion, and then had a temporary block in his memory. That had to be what happened. It had to be, since it was not normal for someone to wake up alone in a pitch-black and cold place with no knowledge of what happened.

Or was it?

Regardless, it would do nothing for him to try to remember any longer. There was clearly something blocking him from his own memories. What he needed was to find out where he was and get out of wherever he was. Then what? Would he find his family? Did they even know he was gone? Or did he even have a family to begin with? He could be an orphan. Maybe he was kidnapped and taken here, but why would his kidnappers take him here.

Unless he was dead.

He pinched himself as hard as he could. He winced, maybe he had been too worried about death and pinched harder than necessary. He would worry about the details of his mysterious past later. Sooner or later, he would require food and water. If he didn't find a way out, he would be dead soon enough.

His hands slide down to explore where he sat, flinching once he felt how cold it was. It certainly felt like ice, but that wouldn't make any sense. Ice was at the very least translucent, it would allow some light to pass although one would not be able to see clearly through it. That was not the case, whatever was surrounding him was opaque, blocking out all sources of light. Furthermore, if he was surrounded by ice, he would have been dead already and the floor did not seem to melt underneath him.

He lowered his hands and felt around again, this time embracing the cold. The surface was smooth until about a few inches to the right where the material became rough and uneven. The texture was familiar to him.

Limestone. Damp limestone to be specific.

Next was a faint crashing sound. He paused and focused on the sound to find that it occurred constantly. Every seven seconds to be exact.

His last clue was the smell. Salty.

If he had to guess, he was somewhere near the coastline facing an ocean or sea. Most likely in the northern hemisphere. Perhaps Scotland, Denmark or Norway.

Now, what was he doing in a cave in northern Europe?

* * *

Over the next few hours, or what he believed to be hours since there was no way to tell time except in his head, he explored the cave. At first, he had not been able to move his legs and he had thought he was paralyzed from the bottom half down. Then after a few minutes of being awake, he started to regain feeling in his legs. It was as if they were an old desktop computer that had not been turned on for years. Pushing himself up, he got to his feet, which he noticed were not wearing shoes. He was wobbly at first, but he took it slowly. Step after step and then he was walking perfectly.

It was strange seeing nothing but darkness. People relied on their sight more than any of their other senses. He walked around using his feet to make sure there were no holes or rifts in the ground. Eventually, he walked into a wall, again made of stone. With one hand touching the wall and the other searching in front of him for any obstacles that might knock him down, he walked around until he circled the perimeter of the cave and came back to where he started.

He had managed to mostly map out the cave that he was in. It was oval-like with a small pond of fresh water near what was probably the western wall. There was no entry or exit that he could find. Which meant, he either entered from above or someone bolted the way.

After circling the cave three more times, he determined there was no way to enter through the walls. There was no trace of a locked entrance. He must have been lowered down into this cave, but the strange thing was that there was no entrance in the ceiling either. He hadn't climbed up the walls and checked, but there was nothing that pointed to it. No change in temperature, sound, or echoes wherever he stood. It was like he was sealed in completely. This also meant water and food were the least of his problem. He would need to conserve the amount of air he breathed or he would suffocate. Granted, there was a small area of mosses and ferns so he would at least have a little longer to live.

Mosses and fern... those plants grew near the entrances of caves.

He practically ran towards it. With all his strength, he pushed on the wall.

Nothing. The wall was as if there was never an entrance. It was completely smooth, not even a dent or a crack. It was like the wall was unnatural or artificial. Man-made perhaps

It couldn't be. He was right. Plants required sunlight to live. There was an opening here, but it just vanished like magic.

He continued to push against the wall. When his hands tired, he used his shoulder. When his shoulders bruised, he used his legs.

The thumping against the wall became as constant as the waves.

He was wasting his energy and he knew it, but it was better to be tired than dead.

Even though his will stayed strong, his body had enough. The coldness of the cave started to seep into his bones. He sat down, leaning against the wall for support. His arms wrapped around himself, trying to stop warmth from escaping his bare skin. He tried to create what friction he could, but only felt the weight of his fatigue slowing him down. Soon he could do nothing but sit as he slowly froze to death. The last bit of warmth he would ever feel would be the hot breath coming out of his mouth when he exhaled and even that was beginning to get colder.

He could not even say he lived a good life because he did not even know about his life. Death would bring an end to all this. It would end the cold, the hunger, the exhaustion. He just had to give in and close his eyes. There would be no pain or suffering. Just darkness, a void. It was pointless, but a part of his refused to give up. He might not have remembered his life before, but he wished to continue living.

He clenched his fists and screamed one last time in frustration. It echoed around the cave, slowly dying out like he was. He released his fists and that was when it happened. A miracle, an impossibility, a phenomenon. No matter what you called it, it happened.

A small flame danced in his palm.

Naturally, fire was not something that was associated with safety. He had to resist any urges to snuff out the fire and constantly reminded himself that it did not burn him.

It did not hurt at all.

He stopped caring how it was possible and simply melted in relief. He could have been hallucinating, but he simply did not care anymore.

It was a small fire, but somehow it was enough to warm him up. It was like the flames were engulfing his body all while staying only in his palm.

Aside from the warmth, the fire also provided light. Light for him to see his pale hand and the hypnotizing sway of the fire. He walked around the cave once more, hoping that sight would allow him to escape. Perhaps he had used up all his luck with this mystical flame in his hand. The cave was exactly how he imagined it in his head.

Once again he reached what should have been the entrance. He would survive for at least another day. And with that thought in his mind, he allowed himself to catch a few minutes of sleep. Minutes which of course turned to hours.

When he woke up, the flame had extinguished itself and he spent what must have been the daytime in darkness.

He had worried about how the cold would affect him when the sun outside would set once more, allowing the night to rule supreme.

However, that night as he huddled in coldness, the flame came back like a loyal friend. And in the next morning, the flame left like a forbidden lover.

That was how he spent the next few days. Eventually, he managed to change his internal clock so he slept during the day and explored the cave when the flame was present to illuminate his surroundings.

He had found a large rock during one of nights and began to draw ticks on the wall for each day that he spent in the cave. He might as well have kept a record if he was going to die.

The rest of the time he spent hacking away at the supposed entrance, breaking a few rocks in his attempt.

On the seventeenth night, he sat against the wall in his usual spot staring at the flame. He had thought of a few theories of how it was possible, but there were holes in all of them.

Maybe he was in a dream and that was why. He was in a very life-like dream where he could conjure fire, but if this was true then why did his dream work like the real world. Why would gravity exist in a dream, and if he could conjure fire, why couldn't he have just punched a hole in the wall?

The next theory was that this was an emergency protocol that his brain initiated. His brain was tricking his body into believing that there was a fire in his palm. This way he would not freeze to death. But even if his imagination was strong enough to trick his body, it would not matter because it would not change anything in reality. If anything he would just have gone insane and believed he was warm while his body froze to death.

His third hypothesis was just that. He was dead. This was some sort of afterlife or test to see if he deserved to be reborn or something. The problem with this one was that it could not have been true. He was pretty sure if he plunged a rock into his heart, he would actually die and what type of afterlife allowed you to die. Also, he didn't particularly believe in the afterlife.

The last theory he thought of was perhaps the most insane but logical. Magic. He was very much alive, not dreaming and in fact in the real world. Maybe he was some type of angel or creature that could control fire. Maybe he was a wizard. It didn't matter what he was. The point was that it was magic that allowed him to live. It was magic that allowed this flame to be in his hand without burning him alive or requiring fuel.

The seventeenth night was the one that he remembered the most, not because he had come to the conclusion of four theories. He remembered it mostly because it was the day escape came in the form of three men. Three strange men who were his saviours nonetheless.

The wall of the cave blasted apart and he supposed he should have been glad that it was not the part of the cave wall he was leaning against.

"Harry?" one of them asked. He could see none of their features since the light from outside the cave came from behind them. He could only see three silhouettes one of which approached him. "Harry?" the man asked again, this time with more strain in his voice.

He made no reply. Was he Harry? Was he the person these three men were looking for?

The man continued to walk up to him. He tried to raise the flame in his hand to see the man's face, but the flame had extinguished itself.

"It's him. I do believe it is Mr. Harry Potter."

"Quickly, we need to take him to St. Mungo's. Who knows what he went through."

The man grabbed him and before he could make any protests, something happened. It was like he was on a roller coaster without a seatbelt on. He was being pulled one moment then compressed the next. He felt nauseous. His vision became distorted. The walls of the cave changed into the starry sky and then buildings? He couldn't take it anymore. Even death would be less painful. His vision faded and then he went unconscious.

* * *

 **Ah, what better way to end the first chapter of a new fanfiction by using a cliché. I simply cannot think of a better way, well I can... but by the** **time you have read up to here, it's already too late to change it. Oh well. Maybe next time. Maybe not. We will just have to find out.**

 **Anyways, this is a new fanfiction that I've been thinking about for a while and decided to give it a try cause why not.**

 **Until next time.**

 **-Pyrrhical**


	2. Introductions

**I realize now that the last chapter ended on a cliffhanger.**

 **Who were those three men? What happened to Harry? Who knows? I don't, I'm just making it up as I go along.**

* * *

"They say time heals even the deepest of wounds, but the truth is sometimes it makes things worse than they already are. Much worse."

-Darrow Starkov

* * *

"I think I failed that potions evaluation. I'm pretty sure it wasn't supposed to be so purple or jelly-like. Hell, I think everyone failed, except for perfect Potter over here." Adrik Weston said waving a breadstick at Harry. "Why did I ever think that education would actually help me in life? Although the food makes school almost worth it."

"I'm just surprised we survived all the toxic fumes in that classroom," Harry said, starting to eat the food on his own plate. He had to agree with Adrik, the food at Durmstrang was always freshly prepared and tailored to each person's appetite. There was no place with better food or not one he had been to anyways.

"Ha," Adrik said taking a bite out of his breadstick before once again pointing it back at Harry. "I remember when we were first years and that kid, I think his name was Tapar, added fire seeds instead of a rat spleen and gave himself diarrhea for a week. He shitted himself in every class and everyone could smell it. I can't believe he is still alive, I thought he would have died from potion poisoning or at least embarrassment."

"You guys are disgusting. I am just glad that the whole potions test is over." Kirsten Abram chimed in.

"It's over until next week when we are brewing the Erumpent Potion, which _isn't_ an explosive potion or anything. Not like it could possibly kill us if we add just a drop too much of anything. Or maybe it _won't_ burn our face off and leave us scarred for the rest of our lives." Adrik reminded her sarcastically, now pointing a new breadstick in her direction.

Kirsten could only groan. "It's only the beginning of the school year Adrik. Don't make me want to kill you already."

"I'm pretty sure you have already wanted to kill him since the first year." Harry chuckled.

Adrik cried out indignantly, clearly recalling his past memories. "Yeah. You _apologized_ for it, but I'm pretty sure you intentionally tried to trap me in that dungeon cell."

"It was an accident. I was trying to get you to shut up, but I forgot which cell I locked you in." Kirsten shrugged as if there was nothing she could have done about it now.

"Maybe I was in the only cell with someone actually locked in it? How pitiful was I, to be wickedly tricked and betrayed by someone I once held dear to my heart."

"Hm. You have a heart, after all. That's quite shocking."

Another cry of indignation from Adrik. "The least you could have done was lock me up with some food. I was so starving that I considered chewing off my own fingers."

"If I did, how else would you starve to death?" Kirsten joked along.

"I knew it, you vile and evil woman. See Harry, she was trying to kill me. I knew it."

Harry had to admit that his friends were weird, but they were his friends after all. "I do remember it being much quieter and more peaceful that day though. Was nice while it lasted."

This time Adrik gasped as if he had been viciously stabbed in the back. "I thought you were on my side, Harry. But of course, you would side with Kirsten." Adrik let out a long and exasperated sigh as if it was all obvious. "With me out of the way, the two of you could spend all your time together staring at each other's eyes and playing with each other's hair. I see where I stand now."

Harry rolled his eyes at Adrik's teasing and looked at Kirsten, who suddenly seemed very interested in poking her mashed potatoes with her fork.

"See I knew you two had a thing for each other." Adrik smiled, but Harry could not help but notice a speck of sadness behind his best friend's grey eyes.

"We do not. And even if we did, Harry and I would not spend our time 'staring at each other's eyes'. What are we three-year-olds?" Kirsten finally said, flicking her potatoes at Adrik.

Harry's best friend only licked the mashed potato off his face and smiled mischievously, as if his prey had fallen into a trap. "Oh, I'm sure you two would be spending your time doing something much more _interesting_ ," he said, playfully wiggling his eyebrows at his two comrades.

Kirsten glowered at Adrik. Harry, on the other hand, only raised an amused eyebrow.

His best friend raised his hands in defence, dropping his utensil on his plate. "Alright. Fine. Kirsten is too polite and _well-mannered_ to do something like that-"

"Hey!"

Adrik only continued. "And Harry... Look at you. Even with me as your best friend, you still have no game whatsoever. Girls could be throwing their bras at you and the only thing you would care about is your essay for Transfiguration."

"My apologies for actually caring about my future. Not everyone wants to be a wreck like you."

"You wound me with your words Harry. I care about my future, but you see I have this little secret thing called _charm_. It works wonders, with both education and the ladies."

Kirsten laughed at that, her dirty blond hair falling behind her shoulders. "That's quite ironic since you are _failing_ charms class."

"Professor Heillar wouldn't know a perfectly casted _Incendio_ even if someone set him on fire with it. And I would know since I did it. He didn't even say 'thank you' to me for burning away his ugly haircut. Ungrateful little bastard." Adrik grumbled on as he took his last bite of dessert.

As if on cue, a blond approached their table and greeted the three. She was in their year. Harry remembered seeing her in some of his classes. Ingrid Zhivko, he believed her name was. She then proceeded to tap Adrik on his shoulder and whisper something into his ear. Then she was walking away, pulling Adrik along, who had already gotten off his seat.

Harry gave Adrik a 'what does she want?' look and he responded with a shrug of the shoulders.

"You need to tell him," Harry said a little abruptly once Adrik was gone, calmly taking a sip out of his fizzy beverage.

"What?" Kirsten said a little too loudly, almost coughing out her beverage.

Harry knew she had heard him perfectly fine, but repeated what he said before taking another sip. "Tell him that you like him."

Kirsten licked her lips as if pondering how to reply. She must have decided it was pointless denying it and lowered her cup. "How do you know?"

"I have known you for years, I know when you have one of those boy crushes. You blink more often and you just have this dreamy look in your eye. It's weird that I even notice these things."

"Does Adrik know?"

"Despite his _charm_ , he is not exactly the most observant person and no I have not told him."

They both laughed at the light ribbing of their friend who was absent to hear it. A pause, then Harry continued, "Tell him because I have been Adrik's friend for as long as I have been yours. He is like a wild horse. If you don't tell him soon, he will run away."

Kirsten's smile turned into a frown and Harry couldn't help but feel guilty, but she needed to hear this. She pursed her lips thinking over what he said then looked over at where Adrik stood, laughing to whatever Ingrid had told him. "So what if I like him? Maybe he likes running freely. Besides, there have always been other girls."

"And there always will be other girls until you tell him. Then if you guys weren't meant to be, then so be it."

"When you say it like that I feel like it's no big deal, but whenever it's the three of us and the notion crosses my mind, I always have the same thought. 'I don't want this to end.' I don't want to lose both my friends just because of a small crush."

"Whoever said I would be on his side? But I am hurt that you would ever believe I would let it come to that."

"Look Harry. I know you are looking out for me, but this could all be nothing, just my teenage hormones acting up. I don't want to throw away a friendship for another relationship that I may or may not want in the long run. This could all just blow over tomorrow."

"And if it doesn't?"

"And if it doesn't," Kirsten repeated as if it was the first time the idea crossed her mind. "If it doesn't, then..."

She never got to finish the thought when all the scraps and leftovers of the meal vanished. The tables throughout the atrium were once again clean from any clumsy spilling of juice or small bits of stray mashed potato that had missed their target. Dinner was over, but no one got out of their seats.

Today was a special day.

"Durmstrang students." Headmaster Igor Karkaroff addressed them sounding a bit nervous and scratching his arm. "As many of you know, the Triwizard Tournament has always been a glorious and celebrated event. However, it was discontinued in 1792, in fear of putting the students who participated in danger. We now live in a golden age, the Dark Lor-" he coughed, cutting himself off before he made a major mistake.

There was silence in the atrium. No one even dared to say anything.

"You-Know-Who has been defeated along with his followers." the headmaster corrected himself. "There is nothing to fear. Nothing to fear at all. Nothing to fear..."

"What's wrong with him?"

Harry turned to see that Adrik had rejoined their table and was clearly thinking the same thing as everyone else. The headmaster seemed to have something on his mind, something that he feared. It seemed that Karkaroff was trying to convince himself that it was safe, more than he was trying to convince his students.

A cough resonated through the atrium and a man wearing a suit got up and took over the podium. Their dazed headmaster only stalked off the stage, no longer caring there was an entire student body with their eyes trained on him.

Another cough by the man in the suit. "Yes. As your headmaster has extensively stressed, we are all safe and to commemorate this era of peace, it has been decided that the Triwizard Tournament be reinstated." the man paused and the crowd that was holding in their excitement exploded into a thunderous roar of anticipation.

"I am Barty Crouch Senior from the British Ministry of Magic and I will be working in tandem with representatives from the French and Norwegian Ministry of Magic to organize the Triwizard Tournament. This year, we have introduced a new rule to further ensure the safety of all. This new rule is that participants must be fourteen years of age or older to participate. Anyone younger is forbidden to enter their name into the Triwizard cup."

Crouch waved his wand and the small red curtains behind him were pulled apart to reveal a metal and glass cup that glowed with an eerie green colour. At the sides of the cup were three metal dragons that faced one another, clearly representing the three champions to be selected.

"Since so many Triwizard Tournaments has been missed, this year's tournament will be especially distinguished. Each of the three schools shall select _three_ champions to compete for the prize of fame, money and eternal glory. I must warn you first, that the challenges ahead will test the strength of each champion. Now I introduce to you the two other competing schools: Beauxbatons Academy of Magic and Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!"

As if they had been listening in or if they had rehearsed it a thousand times, the two side doors of the atrium burst open together and from the foreign schools entered simultaneously. Beauxbatons students entered from the left while Hogwarts students entered from the right.

The atrium became an eruption of cheers, but Harry stayed quiet. He wasn't whistling at the Beauxbatons girls like Adrik was, nor was he eyeing the Triwizard cup.

No. He had his eyes on one person and one person only.

Holden Potter.

The infant who had defeated Voldemort. The Boy-Who-Lived. The Savior of the Wizarding World.

And also, the twin brother of Harry Potter.

* * *

 ** _VERY IMPORTANT READ THIS BECAUSE I KNOW YOU HAVE NOTHING BETTER TO DO. I WOULD HAVE PUT THIS IN A BIGGER FONT AND DOUBLE BOLDED IT TO GET YOUR ATTENTION, BUT I CAN'T SO CAP LOCKS WILL HAVE TO DO_**

 **Before you continue any further you have come to a very important crossroad. You should know a few things about this story:**

 **-Yes, Harry has a twin cause come on let's face it, I'm sure at one point or another we have all wanted a twin and why not write a story with a concept that has been used a million times before**

 **-No this is not going to be one of those fanfictions where his twin is a fat, spoiled Gryffindor version of Draco Malfoy**

 **-No this is not going to be one of those fanfictions where Harry is so powerful that he is some natural prodigy with magic spewing out of his eye sockets**

 **Now that you know what this story will be like, you can decide to delete it from your memory or to continue, that is if I ever remember to update.**

 **Until next time.**

 **-Pyrrhical**


	3. Acquaintance

"As the threads of life begin to form and grow, they all eventually meet and possibly intertwine if the Seamstress allows them."

-Darrow Starkov

* * *

"Are you lost?" that was a question that was asked maybe once every five minutes. It was understandable though. With all the foreign students that were shoved into a new school, the hallways of Durmstrang became even more crowded, and the path become even harder to find. Seeing a sea of faces was now the new norm when rushing through the hallways to get to one's next class.

And for this reason, he had made a left instead of a right on his usual path, to avoid the crowd and found himself in a deserted hallway.

Strange, but not strange enough that he would rather be sandwiched between sweaty students in a heavily congested hallway. Granted, those who knew who he was, tended to leave a foot in radius of empty space around him. No doubt it was the result of his identity.

As he made his way forward, he realized where he was. One of the biggest hints was the large Hogwarts banner that hung on the light blue walls of Durmstrang. It seemed that Headmaster Karokoff had arranged for the Hogwarts students to stay in one of the towers of the castle. As for why this part of the school was so empty, Harry remembered hearing that the Hogwarts students had a school meeting. Which meant that normally, this hallway would have been just as overcrowded.

"What's the matter mudblood? Lost without your boyfriend Potter?" a nasally voice called out.

His head shot up hearing his name, but then realized they weren't talking about him. His twin, they were talking about his twin.

Harry should have walked away. He didn't like interfering with other people's problem because they were _other people's_ problem. He had enough of his own to deal with without making more enemies by sticking up for the weak. And he would have walked away had that been anyone else, but this had to do with his brother. His feet made the decision for him and quietly guided his body towards the sound of the commotion. He cast a disillusionment charm on himself before he peered around a corner to see three girls, all of whom dressed in Hogwarts clothing. Two garbed in green faced one that wore red.

"What do you want Parkinson?" The girl in red said calmly, but he could tell that the girl had hit struck a nerve.

"I just wanted a chat. Don't need to get so defensive Granger."

"A chat," the girl scoffed at the thought. "And I suppose that you thought bringing Bulstrode would make the chat all the more interesting. What do you want?" the girl repeated her question, this time her tone was set.

"Fine, have it your way then. I don't like you and I have been itching for a fight, you just happen to be the unlucky victim."

"No fighting and no magic outside of class, those were the rules at Hogwarts. What makes you think it is any different at Durmstrang?"

"Who is fighting?" the black haired and stub nosed girl asked, putting away her wand into her robes. "You attacked Millicent on her way to the washroom and I just happen to be walking by and witnessed the whole thing. And if you were to get injured, it would only be in the name of self-defence. Who could you blame for being brash and reckless? No one but, yourself."

That was enough of an order for the second girl in green to act. She had been quiet during the whole conversation that Harry had thought she had fallen asleep.

Maybe she did because the first spell she shot was so terribly aimed that it sailed past the girl in red and almost hit Harry.

"Stupefy." The girl, Bulstrode he believed her name was, was down in a second. Her plump body flying to the floor a few feet back from where she was standing. And just like that, the fight was over.

"Look Parkinson, I don't want any trouble. I'm going back to the assembly and I didn't see any of this." The bushy haired girl said, walking back to the room their whole school was probably sitting in. She had turned her back to the two girls, one whom still laid flat on the floor. Perhaps if the girl in red looked around, she would see that the other was steaming with anger, and had raised a wand to her back.

Harry's reflexes from years of training kicked in.

"Protego." he cast the shield right as the girl cast her curse.

"Reducto."

The shield absorbed the spell like a sponge and stood ready for any further attacks. Harry had no idea how strong Hogwarts students were so he had just cast a stronger than average shield. Better safe than sorry.

The two girls looked at him as the disillusionment faltered, but the girl in red, realizing he was not or at least less of the threat, turned back to the other girl.

Before the girl in red could retort or the girl in green could cast another spell, they were joined by two more people.

Both students.

Harry was surprised that no teachers came to check out what was going on, but it was better this way. He didn't like the attention that would come with causing a disturbance, and even less when the attention would mainly be directed at him simply because he was Harry Potter.

The two students were boys, but neither of whom were Harry's twin brother, unless Holden had dyed his hair a pale blond and walked around with the gait of a high aristocrat, or shaved his hair off completely and surrendered himself to a life of following around a snob. The two students, as Harry noticed, also wore green. So the fight would be two against three, maybe four if the stunning spell ever wore off the girl on the floor.

"Pansy what are you-" The blond boy walked toward the girl in green. He scanned the surrounding but stopped short when he saw Harry. The words that had been on his lips departed from him and his jaw dropped to his chest. His eyes which had been a stormy grey now turned to those of a puppy that was about to be hit by a car. Fearful and scared. He gulped and smacked the wand out of Pansy's hand, the stick of wood clattering on the floor.

"What are you doing Draco? We can take them." The girl said, clearly just as surprised at what her ally did.

"Are you insane?" The blond boy half shouted, half whispered. The boy's gaze had drifted to Harry again and his head snapped back to the girl, grabbing her wrist and dragging her away. "Crabbe, get Bulstrode out of here. Now!"

His minion hoisted the plump girl upwards and pulled her away by the armpits. The four left, but not before the blond boy cast another terrified look at Harry. Clearly, he knew something, something that Harry didn't.

He made a mental note to interrogate the boy, before turning to face the girl in red who remained. She was looked puzzled, but also relieved.

"Thank you."

"I was just passing by. I didn't do anything."

"Yes and that shield just randomly appeared, a shield that saved me from turning to ash and dust. Thank you for just _passing_ _by_."

His looked at his watch and continued back to where he was headed, walking away until the girl called out to him. "Who are you?" The girl paused, then hesitantly introduced herself.

"Pleased to make your acquaintance, but I am only a person that should stay on the sidelines. Oh, and a word of advice, never turn your back to your enemies. Just because you are willing to let things go, doesn't mean others are."

* * *

This is ridiculous. Go grow a pair and talk to him."

Harry looked up from his charms report and raised an eyebrow at Kirsten. He didn't answer immediately, to show her that he did indeed consider her suggestion. He took a deep breath, dragging on the moment as long as he could. She would not like his reply, not that her opinion would change his mind. Then he answered, "No."

"Wait," Adrik interjected. He dropped his quill on table next to his report and sat up properly on his chair. The report in front of him only had one sentence. "I thought you had a good relationship with your brother."

"A 'better' relationship than I have with my father, but I'm not sure one could classify it as 'good' exactly. I haven't seen him in four years. I wouldn't have even known if he was dead or alive."

That was not true. His brother was famous in the wizarding world. If his brother did die, the world would go into mourning. Even strangers who had never met the Boy-Who-Lived would want to attend his funeral to pay their respects. They would probably make a holiday after Holden, and Harry was not even exaggerating. He was pretty sure the Canadian Minister of Magic would cross the Atlantic just to attend Holden's funeral.

But if Harry died, there would be no newspapers showcasing his life's achievements, or interviews from all those he knew. No. If he died, there would be only whispers in the darkest of alleyways. The world would celebrate his death if anything, everyone thankful that he was gone. After all, who would want a child who was mysteriously taken by the Dark Lord, and returned with no memories?

There were rumours of course. Some thought of him as damned, bringing bad luck to the wizarding world. Others saw him as such pure evil that even the Dark Lord could not handle him. The rumours showed how fearful people really were of him.

"Harry, why don't you want to talk to your brother?"

"What?" he said, snapping out of his stupor.

"I was just saying," Kirsten went on. "Not seeing your brother for four years is, even more of a reason to go over there."

"He's probably busy. He just got here yesterday and I'm sure Hogwarts kids have homework to do or something."

Adrik shook his head in disappointment. "So the great Harry Potter has duelling skills that could best the most acclaimed aurors in the world, but you can't say 'hi' to your own brother? Say it is not so."

Harry only rolled his eyes and started to reread his paper for charms. Perhaps English was not a subject taught in magical schools, but he didn't want deductions on his paper because of improper grammar.

"Harry just go talk to your brother or I will burn your essay to ashes," Kirsten said, blatantly ignoring Adrik.

It was an empty threat and he knew it. Even if she did try to set his paper on fire, he had quick enough reflexes to block the spell.

"Try it," he said daring her.

"Oh. No. He Didn't." Adrik said, snapping along with each word.

Kristen looked at Harry with a death glare that would have shut even Adrik up, but Harry was different. He wasn't frightened easily. He stared back at her, his face an emotionless mask.

After seconds or minutes, Kristen gave up. "Don't talk to your brother. Who cares that he is one of the few people in the world who actually cares about you. Who cares that you might never have a chance like this to see him again. Who cares that he could be gone tomorrow. You sure won't because you are a heartless bastard aren't you?" she screamed in frustration, shooting up from her seat and storming off, leaving the two boys behind her in silence.

"Should we do something..." Adrik asked, trailing off.

Harry sighed.

"No, it's my fault. I'll go after her. You, head to potions class. Professor Blandan will give you detention for a month if you are late again."

He picked up his things, taking Kirsten's along with him and parted ways with Adrik.

She could have gone anywhere in the castle by now.

She was angry at him. So where would he go if he was a girl who needed to let off some anger? He was pretty sure she wouldn't be sitting quietly in class and taking notes on the Werewolf Code of Conduct. And then there were certain places he was pretty sure she wouldn't have been no matter how angry she was. So he could cross the boy's bathroom off the list unless her idea of releasing rage was demolishing urinals.

Still, the castle was pretty large compared to one fourth-year student.

Heck, she could have left the castle and went outside.

Outside.

He made his way through the hallways, dodging students from the other schools who were running around, and finally reached the doors that lead beyond the castle walls.

It was only early fall, but it felt like deep winter in Northern Europe. The sun no longer had the same strength as it did, and the winds seemed to have become harsher overnight. Perhaps a hurricane was coming their way or more likely a snow storm.

He began his journey into the cold.

Maybe he would be buried in the snow and his corpse would never be found.

A trail of footprints in the snow slowly formed behind him as he walked on. He couldn't help but wonder if he was wrong. Did Kirsten really run out here when it was freezing? Maybe he was not as good at thinking of his best friend as he thought.

Just as he was about to turn back, he saw her, or at least her silhouette by the tree and he continued marching on.

The tree should have been dead and buried in snow, much like how his toes were. The leaves should have fallen off a long time ago and the trunk degraded from the bitter weather. Instead, the tree stood tall and proud, almost as if was at home in a forest and no alone on a mountain.

A Durmstrang student from the past must have found the endless snow irritating and cast a charm that made a weather resistant dome, almost like a barrier against the snow and wind. While it snowed cats and dogs outside, the inside of the dome would be toasty warm almost like sitting in a field during the summer. Without the layers of snow, the ground inside the dome was covered in grass.

He took his jacket off as the dome started to warm him up, and wordlessly sat beside her. That was how it was until he realized she wouldn't say anything to him. She was still mad and still waiting for an explanation.

Why didn't he want to talk to his brother?

Maybe it was because a small part of himself, a subconscious part he paid little attention to, loathed his brother for getting the better life. Somehow Holden had won the lottery of birth and was born Holden Potter. He had everything he wanted, while Harry was born to be nothing more than to be shadowed by his brother's magnificence.

Maybe it was because his brother, despite the same blood coursing through their veins, felt more like a stranger than family. Harry had seen Holden during his time at Durmstrang, but it was only every because his brother appeared in the newspapers, never in person. Then there was the fact that his father never allowed him to visit. So Harry had spent almost every minute of his life at Durmstrang, every minute of his life that he remembered. There was still the matter of the missing nine years, but he remembered nothing of it and those nine years didn't really belong to him did they? Durmstrang, Kirsten, Adrik, that was the only family he had, the family he had made for himself.

He said none of that to the girl beside him.

"I'll talk to my brother. Just not now."

Silence. If Harry hadn't been watching her so closely, he wouldn't have seen the small nod of her head as she realized that was as much as she would get from him. She wasn't smiling, but she sure as hell didn't still want to murder him brutally.

"I shouldn't have lost it," she said quietly under her breath.

"I don't blame you. I am a 'heartless bastard' after all."

She laughed, but the joy was short lived. Although she was right. She had lost it, but she never lost it. Harry knew that Kirsten didn't just lose herself in a moment of frustration. This was something different.

After a few howls from the winds outside, he asked, "How is your brother?"

Kirsten found a loose strand of hair and twirled it between her fingers, clearly deciding how to answer. "I got-" she took a breath, trying to suck in all her courage. "I got a letter last night. The medics say that it's gotten worse. They think that it is time to give up. My dad is deciding whether to take the medics' suggestion to just let him-" she managed to say, her voice degrading more and more as she spoke. But she couldn't choke out.

 _Die_.

She didn't have to say it, Harry already knew.

Kirsten smiled and laughed most of the time, but once the topic came to her family, she became reserved, quiet, pale even. It had taken years of friendship before she was willing to tell Harry about her dead mother, her absent father and her dying brother. She had been soaked in tears after she finished, much like she was right now.

And he did the same thing he had done back then, the same thing he did every time she got a letter from home or from the hospital her brother stayed at. He tried comforted her.

Harry put an arm softly around her as she continued to quietly sob, not knowing if it actually helped or not.

They sat like that for a while, with the warmth and protected by the dome as everything froze around them. The tears stopped well after his arm became numb.

"So we good?" he asked when she was ready to leave.

"I'll tell you what, if you carry my things back to school for me, then we will be good."

"Deal," he said standing up and pulling on his jacket once more.

"Today is a great day don't you think?" said Kirsten as she smiled despite her tear-stained face.

Harry snorted. "That is if Professor Blandan doesn't kill us for being late to potions class."

* * *

When they had arrived to potions class, it was well past the regular "the halls were too crowded" or "I forgot my books in my dorm and had to go get them" excuses.

The class was well into their lesson when Harry and Kirsten opened the door and entered the room.

Harry could see Adrik looking up at them. His best friend's face turning from death and despair to joy in an instant was almost enough to make him laugh. Adrik really hated school and he really hated potions specifically.

The only thing that kept him from laughing was the look that Professor Blandan gave Kirsten and him.

"Mr. Potter and Ms. Abram, late?" the professor's tone was not stern, but confused and perplexed. Then the professor turned to Adrik, pointing an accusatory finger at him like he was a demon from the depths of hell. "Mr. Weston on time to class? What has the world become? Is a centaur going to come in here playing the accordion next?"

Then a laugh came bursting out. Not from Harry, but from Adrik who almost fell off his potions stool.

"My apologies professor. There were some Beauxbatons students who were lost. Professor Kamen had instructed Kirsten and I to guide them to their destination. That is the reason we are late, but surely a professor as understanding as yourself would not hold it against us."

"No, not at all. Take your seats and catch up on the lesson from someone." Professor Blandan said a little fidgety. Even if the potions professor wasn't distracted by the flattery, he wouldn't go against the _wishes_ of Professor Kamen, no one would. Then Blandan turned towards the rest of the class. "Now if only some of you took potions class seriously and at least had a valid reason for being late."

Adrik saw the chance and took it. "What are you talking about professor? I love potions. As I always say, 'there's nothing better than the smell of fresh newt eyes in the morning.'" he mocked the old professor who probably didn't have the health to deal with students like him.

Professor Blandan opened his mouth as if to argue then closed it again, realizing he would not win no matter what. "Back to the Girding Potion. The first thing you need is a set of fairy wings."

* * *

Harry wandered the hallways, not because he was lost or because his legs could use the exercise. He was looking for his brother. Or at least trying to.

He didn't know what had changed his mind. Maybe a part of him actually wanted to talk to his brother, the only family he had left. Of course, there was their father who was still alive and well, living in Britain. But there was just something about sending your son to another country alone, that made Harry feel like his father did not like him much. His father undoubtedly favoured Holden.

Regardless, there he was moving through the halls of Durmstrang.

"Now if only I can find him." He said as he dragged a finger along the smooth surface of the walls. He had heard of Hogwarts and even read about the school in the book "Hogwarts: A History", but he found that the wonders of the Durmstrang castle were equivalent.

Contrary to popular belief, the Durmstrang castle was not dark and dank, nor was is musty or old. No, the Durmstrang castle was really something to behold. In his years of attending the school, the architecture never ceased to amaze him.

"Harry?"

He turned to look at the black-haired boy who called his name.

His brother.

They were twins, identical twins to be exact. So his brother looked very much like how Harry looked, with only three major differences.

The first one was their hair. Although both had black and unruly hair like their father, Holden had let his hair grow longer and more disorderly. Given a few more months, his brother would be able to tie his own hair into a short ponytail. In contrast, Harry had shaved the sides of his head and brushed his hair at the top to the side, which was the Durmstrang uniform haircut.

The next thing was their eyes. Aside from the round glasses that were perched on Holden's nose and none on Harry's, they had different eye colours. Holden had gotten eyes that were blue as the sea and bright as the sky, while Harry's sparkled like emeralds, a vibrant green.

The last thing and perhaps the most distinctive thing about Holden was the scar. Upon Holden's forehead was the lightning bolt scar that was known throughout the world. And on Harry's forehead, there was nothing but unblemished skin. No scar, no bruise, no nothing.

He was not the one that defeated the Dark Lord. His brother was. He was not the one who had survived the killing curse. His brother was. He was not the one who grew up beloved by a nation. His brother was.

"I was just looking for you," said Harry as he approached his brother who was seated on a bench, dodging a group of Beauxbatons girls who were giggling as they passed by.

"Been a long time since we have seen each other," Holden said as Harry sat down next to him.

"Long doesn't begin to cover it."

"It is nice to finally see where you have been for the last four years though. Maybe you will get to visit me at Hogwarts one day."

Harry knew that was not going to happen. It was impossible. There was a reason why he was sent to Durmstrang instead of attending Hogwarts, and that was the same reason that would keep him in Durmstrang until the day he graduated. But he did not mind it. Durmstrang was the only home he had ever known after all.

"Yeah, maybe one day," he said, not wanting to kill his brother's hopes. "How do you like it here so far?"

Holden laughed. "To be honest, I've been going to Hogwarts for four years and I still get lost. I've been here for less than a day, I almost went into the girl's washroom."

Harry grinned. There was just something about Holden that made you want to smile no matter how terrible your day had been or how horrible your life had been. It was something that always fascinated Harry.

"I thought I heard screaming on the second floor. Didn't know that was you." Harry joked along.

"Ha ha, you are so funny," Holden said deadpanned but ended up laughing.

It felt strange talking to family. Strange, but natural. Was this what he had missed out his entire life?

"So they are drawing the champions for the Triwizard Tournament in a few days," Holden said offhandedly, snapping Harry out of his thoughts.

"Yeah," he said still distracted. Maybe he and his brother would have played Quidditch together under the hot blazing summer sun, or they would have stayed in and watched the rainy weather of England safe behind the glass windows of their home. They could have been the best of brothers, or they could have argued every single day, but still silently cared and looked out for each other. And now they were this... Brothers that were just mere acquaintances?

"Are you entering?" his brother asked again, once again bringing Harry back to reality.

Reality.

The reality of things was that a unicorn and a Thestral probably had a stronger relation than he and his brother. The reality was that his father despised his older son so much that Harry would never be able to go back to the Potter estate in Godric's Hollow. The reality was the constant dull struggle of life.

Harry shook his head. "I have enough on my plate without risking my life for a metal trophy. You?" He made a mental note that he still needed to interrogate Malfoy. The blond aristocrat knew something...

His brother shrugged nonchalantly. "I'm not really a fan of eternal glory."

Harry almost exploded laughing at the irony. "I mean it would be quite something if you did get picked. Boy-Who-Lived, Golden Child, Triwizard Champion. I don't know how you would ever be able to fit all your titles on a name card."

"It would be more of a name list then." Holden laughed. "I haven't even decided if I'm going to enter yet, let alone if I'm going to get picked. Maybe I'm just caught up in all the hype. Practically everyone that is eligible is entering-well with the exception of you and Hermione."

Hermione, Harry remembered the girl he met in the hallways. He didn't mention Holden's girlfriend or today's incident, not knowing if they were close enough as brothers to start talking about girls. Maybe they would always remain distant, talking about the weather and current events-mostly current events since the weather at Durmstrang was almost always the same: snowing, hailing, blizzard. Instead, he continued the conversation on the Triwizard Tournament.

"That cup would be stupid not to pick you."

"You flatter me, but I think the cup would be smart not to pick me."

"If you're not sure, then just enter your name in and let fate decide the rest. If you were meant to be a champion, you'll get picked and if not, just sit back and enjoy the show with me."

"I'm sure we will have fun laughing at the misery and pain of the champions," Holden said sarcastically. Then he added not-so-sarcastically, "Not like the ministry would let anyone get hurt."

But Harry wasn't so sure.

* * *

 **Finally an update.**

 **I am not dead, if that possibility ever popped up in your head. I just had a lot of ideas that didn't quite connect or fit. Many of them were destroyed or scrapped for future points of the story. So this chapter was actually written a while ago, but it just took me some time to organize it. The good news is that a large majority of the next chapter has already been written and just needs to be organized as well.**

 **Until next time.**

 **-Pyrrhical**


	4. Champions

**Ha, updated in less than a month. Enjoy the chapter while I pat myself on the back.**

* * *

"What do you do when the world seems set on beating you down? Embrace the floor, the concrete, the dirt and know that one day, you will be the one looking over the world from the stars above."

-Darrow Starkov

* * *

The air in the atrium was ecstatic and the students were even more so.

"I swear half these people have pixies flying around in their pants. That has to be how they are so fidgety." Kirsten said, looking over the student bodies of the three school.

"And the other half must have snorted some fairy dust. They look high as fuck." Adrik stated, never missing an opportunity to swear. He had to duck to avoid being smacked in the head by Professor Blandan, who was walking by. Clearly, the old potions master did not appreciate the profanities.

"Surprised you weren't snorting it with them," Harry said dryly.

"Just because I know where to get a batch, doesn't mean I use it." Then his best friend said slowly, as if Harry was a five-year-old, "Don't do drugs Harry, they bad for you."

Kirsten rolled her eyes. "And gambling is bad for you. That doesn't seem to stop you from throwing away your Galleons on impossible betting odds. Speaking of which, why aren't you there orchestrating the whole gambling ring?"

"Blame Professor Blandan. I think the man has it out for me. He said if I was caught near any sort of illegal money transfers, he would get me expelled." Adrik said, shooting the professor a sour look.

The potions professor, who was now seated at a table near the front, only smiled when he saw Adrik's discontent. Maybe there was some bad blood between the teacher and student, not that it was at all surprising.

"As crazy of a gambler I may be, I'm not risking having to go to a wizarding school in North America. I don't like hippies or insane governments," added Adrik, as he turned back to face his friends. "And besides, I have Aksel over there betting on my behalf. Most of my money is on Krum to be a Triwizard champion."

Harry knew his best friend was not concerned with the education standards of the other continent. The reason Adrik did not want to go to North America was not because of the schools there, but because of his mother who lived there.

"Aw Adrik, if you had a crush on Krum you could have just told him and gotten him to your autograph your back. You don't need to lose your entire life's savings just to get his attention." Kirsten teased.

"I don't have a crush on him and why are you so sure he won't be a champion?"

Kirsten snorted. "There's a difference between Quidditch Seeker and Triwizard Champion."

"We will see who is right when I'm the one drowning in money."

"Wait," Harry said, interrupted the two. " _Most_ of your money is on Krum. What about the rest?"

Adrik laughed at that. "The rest my friend, I have bet on you."

"I didn't enter my name into the tournament."

" _I_ know that and you know that, but some Beauxbatons students don't know that. So I took the initiative of _accidentally_ implying that the Dark Lord Potter of Powerful Evilness was entering. They were immediately intrigued. And when I put a few coins on you, they dumped every single thing of value onto you. Can't wait to see their faces when they realize they were duped."

"They say the Triwizard Tournament is to promote unity, but I can't help but feel like the rivalry is only going to get worse by the end of the year. I wonder why _Adrik_."

"I wonder that too sometimes Kirsten, but some mysteries in life were simply not meant to be answered."

Kirsten was about to make a retort when the man from the ministry stepped on the stage, Bartemius Crouch. He was probably the official replacement for Karkaroff after last time's horrendous introduction to the Triwizard Tournament. The now dejected and frightened Headmaster of Durmstrang stood quietly sandwiched between the other two headmasters.

Slowly and surely, all conversations ceased. Everyone had enough of guessing, they wanted to know who the champions would be exactly. They wanted to know if they would be chosen to compete.

"The time has come to select our champions. Three from each school shall be chosen to compete for eternal glory, riches and fame. It will test each of your strengths and push each of your weakness. It will be gruelling and challenging, by no means easy. You have each made your decision whether you would like to compete and now we will see which of you are worthy to compete."

As if on cue, the torches that lit up the atrium began to dim, which only exaggerated the blues flames that came from the Goblet of Fire. Crouch walked up beside the goblet and stepped back, allowing the magical object to do its thing.

The blue flames continued to dance slowly, completely unaware of the students that held their breath in anticipation. If the goblet had waited any longer, Harry was sure a few students would have gone unconscious. But the flames that glowed with a blue hue suddenly snapped to a lively red. The ashes of burnt paper in the goblet seemed to have slowly pieced itself back together to form a slip of parchment. The slip erupted from the flames and blew, as if carried by wind, towards the students.

Hogwarts sat on the left of the room and Beauxbatons on the right, but the slip of paper did not go to either side. Instead, it flew to the middle table of students.

Durmstrang.

Harry could feel something off immediately, like when you knew it would be a terrible day before it started. His eyes, along with everyone else's traced the paper's flight as it flew over the heads of many students before descending. For a moment, he thought the paper would fall towards Adrik, who had entered, or the older Durmstrang student who sat across from Harry. But he had a feeling that it wouldn't, and it seemed he was forced to admit he was right when the paper landed right between his arms that rested on the table. The slip of parchment laid on its front, with the blank back showing nothing to the crowd of students that had now assembled around it eagerly.

He took a breath then picked up the paper in his hands and flipped it over. Starring right back at him was his own handwriting:

 _Harry Potter._

"HARRY POTTER! Our first Triwizard Champion." the voice of Bartemius Crouch yelled as thousands of emotions ran and collided inside Harry. Time seemed to have been frozen and he felt as if his soul had left his body, as if he was only watching this, as if this was someone else.

But it wasn't.

 _This can't be._

But it was.

"I thought you said you didn't enter." he faintly heard Kirsten say.

Everything came crashing back. He could have sat there in disbelief until someone pushed him out of his seat and dragged him away, or he could have walked out the atrium door and gone to bed. He did neither. Instead, with the paper still in hand, he smiled, got up, and walked towards Crouch to shake the old man's hand. He received a pat on the shoulder by the British Ministry Official and departed to the door near the stage that led to another room. Before he left the atrium completely, he stopped and stood, hidden from the crowd by a dark shadow. He glanced back to see the reactions.

Some were not surprised he had been selected, but rather surprised that he was in fact Harry Potter. They were confused why he didn't have empty eye sockets or jagged vampire teeth like the way the storybooks had described him. Of course, they all thought Harry Potter, the future Dark Lord, would look more like a monster and not like what they saw, just a regular fourth-year boy.

Somewhere in the crowd, there was already talk that he had somehow cheated. But it was quickly muffled since the majority believed he was chosen. After all, who would be more qualified than an infant who the Dark Lord had taken in personally?

Very few.

He could see a few students that were already waiting for the next name to be picked, hoping it was their own. Adrik smiled, no doubt glad he had won a few extra Galleons. Kirsten looked on with a confused and worried gaze.

Then there were the teachers. None of the Durmstrang professors was surprised since they had taught Harry and knew he was far more capable than most. The professors from Beauxbatons were not amused, unhappy that such a threat would stand in the way of their school from winning the tournament. It was the reactions from the Hogwarts staff that interested him.

Most stared on gruffly, like the grizzled man with a magical blue eye and staff in hand. There was one professor who raised an eyebrow in interest as he whispered something to the headmaster. The professor's slick black hair that was parted in the middle blocked Harry from trying the read the words he was saying. Then there was the headmaster who ran a hand through his beard as if plotting for a war. The twinkle in the headmaster's eyes seemed to have disappeared and in a blink of the eye, it was back again.

Harry tried to read his lips, but the old headmaster must have decided it wasn't the best time for talking, and continued to look on as another slip of parchment flared up from the red flames of the goblet.

This time it was not headed for the middle table and shifted left, stopping in front of a tall and handsome boy with the chiselled features of a statue. He picked up the paper and smiled as if it told him he was chosen as the winner of a lottery. He was chosen for something.

"Cedric Diggory." His name was said as the boy in yellow stood and made his way towards the stage and no doubt towards the room Harry was supposed to already be waiting in.

Clearly, the rules weren't meant for everyone. Nonetheless, it would be pointless to remain. All possible hints of who had put his name in the goblet were gone.

As he walked down the stairs and into the room, a plan was beginning to form with each step.

"Harry Potter, nice to finally meet you. I'm Cedric Diggory." The Hogwarts champion said, a hand already extended outwards.

There was no point in turning the older boy down. Harry shook his hand, cementing a possible ally in the process. There was no doubt that there were already people against him, and clearly, someone planning his downfall.

As the seconds ticked by, other champions trickled into the room. Harry had to wonder if there were others who hadn't put their own name into the cup, but the hints of smugness and pride that were present on each champion told him all that he needed to know.

So this was done against him and him alone.

Harry couldn't help but notice that Viktor Krum had been selected as well. It seemed that Adrik really had fortune's favour.

Five, six, seven. There were seven champions selected already, each one a potential ally or enemy, but none of them was the person who had set up Harry. After all, what would they gain if he did enter? Besides, Harry might not have known the exact academic standings of the three schools, but he doubted that any of them would be able to rig a protected magical artifact like the goblet. Once he established that none of the other champions could have done it, he studied each one, making small notes to himself about the way they carried themselves, or how they interacted with one another.

The eighth champion was a breathtakingly beautiful Beauxbatons girl, who seemed to have almost drawn the attention of the entire room when she walked in. She looked around, greeting everyone with a short moment of eye contact, letting each of them drown in her big blue eyes and drool at her beauty. But Harry knew what she was doing. The girl wasn't trying to be polite or friendly. No. She was declaring herself to her fellow champions, showing off her strength, her beauty.

"Fleur Delacour." he could hear someone whisper.

Finally, her eyes rested on Harry, who stood off to the side, and her lips turned gracefully into a smile.

He only raised an eyebrow in response.

She only turned and joined the crowd that formed in the middle.

If most of the attention was on the eighth champion when she entered, then _all_ of the attention was directed at the ninth and final champion as he walked in.

Harry couldn't stop the corners of his lips from twitching upwards as he was brought back to an earlier thought. Who could have been more qualified for the Triwizard Tournament than a boy who had been taken in by the Dark Lord?

A boy who had defeated the Dark Lord.

Holden halted as he faced the scrutiny of the other champions. His name and title were being circled around the room, even though everyone already knew who he was.

Holden Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived.

Holden Potter, the infant who had defeated You-Know-Who.

But Harry was now hearing a new one for the very first time.

Holden Potter, the _winner_ of the Triwizard Tournament.


	5. Celebrations

"The best way to bond is over some alcohol. The best place to bond is in prison. The strongest bonds are those made in prison over alcohol, or those that are simply fated to be."

-Darrow Starkov

* * *

By the time Crouch finished explaining every single detail of the tournament, as if the old man had memorized the handbook, a quarter of the champions looked like they were ready to drop out. Either from the boredom of the rules or from fear of the tasks ahead.

There was another round of congratulations that echoed through the room for the nine chosen champions, before they were released for the celebratory feast.

As Harry made his way towards Adrik and Kirsten, his attention was not focused on the students that leaned away as far as possible from him without falling out of their seat or the way they seemed to get quiet as he walked by. Instead, his attention was focused on the giant banner that was newly plastered at the front behind the table the professors ate at.

 ** _Triwizard Champions_**

 ** _Durmstrang Institute_**

 _Harry Potter_

 _Viktor Krum_

 _Vanja Durik_

 ** _Beauxbaton Academy of Magic_**

 _Elaina Perinne_

 _Basile Zénon_

 _Fleur Delacour_

 ** _Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_**

 _Cedric Diggory_

 _Latisha Randle_

 _Holden Potter_

Five boys and four girls, three from each school.

When Harry sat down to eat, crowds of students came swarming, either to congratulate him or ask him for more details. In truth, he knew about as much as they did, but repeated what Crouch had said. The first task would be in a few weeks and the competitors had until then to figure out what it was or they would go in completely unprepared. They were bound by a magical contract where they had to compete or die trying not to. Cheating, sabotaging, purposely injuring or inflicting harm on a fellow champion would also result in the breaking the terms and conditions of the contract, which again would lead to death, or a fate much worse.

As the students returned back to their seats for dinner, Harry looked up from his plate and saw Kirsten and Adrik who had been silent the entire time.

Adrik opened his mouth, clearly about to ask him about entering the tournament, but Harry silenced him with a look. _Later._ And that was enough for them to avoid any talk of the tournament, slowly drifting on to other topics.

By the time dinner was over most of the students left the atrium and that was when the real party started. That was when the tired adults retired to bed and turned a blind eye to any alcoholic beverages that had somehow made their way onto school property. This was how it had always been for any celebration or holiday. The Beauxbaton students were the first to join the Durmstrang students in their alcoholic endeavours, and eventually, the Hogwarts students loosened up enough to take a few swigs themselves.

Harry should have been celebrating with Kirsten and Adrik. He should have been stumbling around the hallways, drunk beyond his senses, celebrating being a champion like the lone male champion from Beauxbaton. Or maybe he should have been hidden away from all the old noise and plan his strategy for the tournament. Instead, he found himself wandering once again into the Hogwarts area. He found that he was not the only student from the other two schools to enter the Hogwarts area. It seemed a few Beauxbaton students were chatting up a conversation with Cedric Diggory, no doubt attracted to his dashing good looks.

He surveyed each student he passed, whether they were already passed out from low liquor tolerance, or if they finally had enough liquid courage to go snog their longtime crush.

None of them was who he was looking for. None of them was the blond heir to the Malfoy family.

Perhaps Harry had the entire year to seek out and speak to Malfoy, but he would never get a better opportunity than this. Most of the school was very much impaired by alcohol. The students could barely walk straight, let alone notice Harry Potter talking to the son of a rumoured death eater.

As he turned a corner, he saw his target. Standing with other Hogwarts students who were dressed in green was Malfoy. Harry took note of each student's alertness as he approached the group.

The two pudgy boys who served as Malfoy's bodyguards were failing their job terribly since they were both unconscious. There was another boy, sickly skinny with striking brown hair who was well into his rounds. One of the girls left, taking another girl with her, one who was already tipsy. Two less to worry about.

In truth, Harry could have probably taken them all whether they were drunk or not, but this way it would be much more efficient.

Surprisingly enough, Malfoy was the soberest, which meant that Harry couldn't just mislead the boy into leaving his friends. No matter, he had come prepared.

As Harry continued to approach the group, no one paid him any attention. It was only when he was about an arm's length away that Malfoy saw him. Again, it was the same terrified look as when he first saw Harry.

But it was too late. Harry's wand was out and pressed into Malfoy's back.

"Stupefy."

And the boy was unconscious. Easy.

Harry grabbed one of the nearly empty bottles and glued it on Malfoy's hand with the sticking charm. Then he looped Malfoy's free hand around his neck and started to walk away.

"No Drac...Draco's is my boyfriend, get... get chor'own boyfriend." A girl garbled, her speech impeded by a lack of a clear mind. Harry recognized her as the girl who had tried to harass his brother's girlfriend. "Lego of my boyfriend." the girl shrieked, holding tighter onto the unconscious Malfoy's free hand and forcing Harry to drag her dead weight.

Harry almost choked. As if he wanted Malfoy as a boyfriend. "I just need to borrow your boyfriend for a moment," Harry muttered to himself.

It was pointless, this pug-faced girl just wouldn't let go and he had enough. He let go of Malfoy's arm and allowed the unconscious blond to sail crashing to the floor along with the girl who held so tightly to him. Maybe Harry had given the other boy a concussion, but he wasn't in the mood to care about the well-being of others.

Before the girl could screech out again, he had his wand out again aimed at her head.

"Confundus."

The red light came from his wand and the girl immediately released her grip on her 'boyfriend'. Somehow Harry doubted that it was a mutual love relationship between the two. More of a one-sided and only one-sided relation.

Harry bent down and picked up Malfoy from the floor, once again looping the other boy's arm around his neck.

As they walked, or rather one walked while the other boy was being unceremoniously dragged, Harry kept his head down. To anyone else who wasn't too drunk, it would only look like a student helping a friend who had drank too much. Malfoy's head lolled lifelessly and he could have been dead for all Harry knew.

Finally, as the two entered an empty and secluded hallway, Harry dumped the other boy on the floor. Being gentle was not one of his most predominant traits.

"Rennervate." The counter-spell for the stunning charm did its job as Malfoy stirred awake.

"What the hell?" The blond said, lifting his hand to his head in an attempt to stop the throbbing, only to find a bottle instead of a hand.

Then everything came back crashing to the boy and he looked up at who stood over him.

"Pot-Potter what do you want?" Malfoy stuttered out.

"What do you know about me?"

"Nothing. Nothing I swear."

"Tell me Draco, why do you always walk the other way when you see me in the hallways?"

The blond's face softened, realizing that Harry only wanted to question him and not kill. He stood up and dusted his robes off as best as he could with a bottle stuck to his hand. "Look Potter, I don't have the answers you are looking for. Most of the death eaters are as clueless as you are. No one knows what the Dark Lord did to you or why he did it to you. We just know that you are special to the Dark Lord. No one can touch you, let alone hurt you."

"That's all you know?"

"Before the school year started, my father said to stay out of your way and told me that big things were happening this year. _That's_ all I know."

"Draco, you are loyal to the Dark Lord?"

"'Yes." The blond boy said, then caught on to what Harry was going for. "And I am loyal to you." Draco bowed.

Harry didn't know if he could really trust this boy. He could just be acting and Harry would just have another thorn in his back. It wasn't too late to erase the boy's memory since he had gotten the information he needed.

Both boys froze in place as they heard footsteps coming and Harry was forced to make his decision.

"Keep an ear out for any news, I'll find you again. Go before they get here."

Draco nodded and scurried down the hallway, away from the footsteps.

Harry, on the other hand, walked towards the footsteps head on. He needed to stall whoever it was so that Draco could get away. It wouldn't do either of them any good to be seen together.

If it had been the sound of drunken stumbling feet, Harry wouldn't have rushed. But these footsteps came at an even pace, one after another, filled with purpose. Whoever it was, they weren't just a drunk student who had lost their way. The footsteps were getting closer, almost as if the person was racing forward.

As he came out of the hallway, he came face to face with the footsteps, or rather the person that the footsteps belong to as she crashed into him. Luckily, Harry was not some scrawny midget, the girl's force was not enough to send them both flying to the floor. If anything, she just bounced back a step.

"Hermione?"

The girl looked up surprised, not knowing there was someone else in the area. "Harry," she said, registering his face. "Holden's brother."

He nodded. He had gotten used to that title. While his brother was the saviour of the wizarding world, he was only the brother of the saviour of the wizarding world. He himself had no accomplishments, only a curse.

She must have sensed his thoughts and explained herself. "It's just that you two look alike. I had to remind myself that it wasn't him."

"So where are you going in such a rush?" Harry asked, changing the topic.

"I was actually looking for Holden. We were supposed to meet up, but he didn't come and I'm a little worried about him." She then raised a hand to her mouth and proceeded to whisper to him, even though there wasn't anyone else nearby. "There are quite a few drunks around and there's no telling what they will do."

"Thought my brother would do better than to leave his girlfriend worried. I wouldn't blame you if you broke up with him for this."

For a moment, she stared at him confused. Then the realization hit. "That day when you saved me, that girl called me Holden's girlfriend." Then she shook her head. "I'm not really his girlfriend, just a friend."

"My apologies, and to think my brother was lucky enough."

"So what are you doing here? I didn't think wandering deserted places was quite your thing." She said, looking down the dark hallway he had come from. Draco was long gone, and the only evidence of their meeting was some alcohol that was spilt.

"I was actually looking for my brother too. Thought we could celebrate the champion selection over some Firewhisky." Harry lied smoothly as he conjured a bottle of the strong alcoholic drink behind his back, before bringing it forward to show the girl. "But I guess if you can't find him, I should just give up."

"Well there's one other place he might be," she said, almost doubtfully.

"Lead the way then."

They walked and fell into a friendly conversation.

"There isn't much information on Durmstrang Institute," Hermione said. "I've checked all the books I could find on it."

"Durmstrang is a very secretive place and we are very secretive people. They will probably erase your memories when you leave at the end of the year."

She raised an eyebrow at him.

"I'm joking," Harry said. "Well since we are walking around anyways: welcome to the Durmstrang tour. What would you like to know?"

"I've read about the school and I know some basic information, like Durmstrang Institute is a Scandinavian school located in Northern Europe. It opened its door to the education of young wizards and witches in 1294. Newer than Hogwarts, but still pretty old." the girl commented.

"Since you already know that, I'll tell you something less known. The school has pretty breath-taking architecture and the reason for it is this. The founder of this school figured the perfect place to have a school where no muggles would find it, is in the mountain ranges. So surrounding Durmstrang is a vast tundra and many, many mountains."

"So how do you build a school in the middle of a frozen and barren wasteland?"

"Unlike other schools that are built from bricks, Durmstrang was carved out from a mountain. Each room, each crack was carved out. These walls," he said sliding a hand along the grey as he walked, "are the mountain itself."

"That's why there are no windows in half of the castle, with only torches substituting as light." the girl speculated.

She was about to say something when they stopped walking. Harry looked up and saw his brother beside a few empty bottles, laughing with a ginger-haired boy who was sprawled out on the floor. At that moment his brother looked more like a regular boy than the boy who lived.

Hermione turned away and stormed off.

It seemed that she was angry with Holden. Not only had he forgotten, but she had been worried over nothing.

Harry could have left her alone. He could have gone back and enjoyed a good night's sleep, but he didn't. Instead, he trailed her until her legs must have given up on her. She sat down in the almost empty hallway, leaning back on the wall. He sat down beside the girl and opened the bottle of Firewhisky that was still in his hand. It seemed like an appropriate time for some alcohol.

"Thank you, but you don't have to keep me company. I'm fine one my own."

He offered her the bottle, but she declined and he took a sip himself. "I see it more as you keeping me company. I mean who else am I suppose to ramble on to while I drink this?" They sat in silence until Harry took another gulp of the alcohol. "So why do I feel like you don't like that ginger boy my brother was with?"

She sighed. "It's a long story."

"We have a long night ahead of us."

He offered the bottle of Firewhisky again. This time she took it and swallowed a mouthful before coughing as the alcohol burned down her throat. "I'm not very popular," she admitted.

"Neither am I," he said deadpanned. Curses don't attract friends.

The girl laughed and he had to admit it was a nice sound. "I guess I shouldn't be complaining, at least not to you... The boy with Holden is Ron Weasley."

"I know of him. He is the guy who won't stop eating at dinner."

"That's Ron for you, all he knows is how to eat. Well, he hangs out with Seamus and Dean now."

Harry nodded. "I will pretend to know who those two are."

She took another drink of Firewhisky, needing the courage that came along with it. This time she didn't cough, already prepared for the burning sensation. "The thing is, Ron used to hang out with Holden and I. We were the Golden Trio as everyone called us. The only thing everyone didn't know was that Ron and I hated each other. Ron wasn't the most polite to strangers he met on the train and I was a bit of a know-it-all. The only reason why we even talked to each other was because of Holden. He was the common denominator."

This time it was Harry's turn to laugh. "A bit of a know-it-all? You know more about Durmstrang than I do, and I've been going here for the last few years."

She giggled along. "Fine I was a very big know-it-all and I still am. Anyways, in our first year, Ron said some mean things about me, there was a troll and some tears. In the end, Holden had to choose between me and Ron. He chose me and it put a strain on Holden and Ron's friendship. Eventually, they reconciled, but Ron and I never did. We are still on rocky terms and I still don't like Ron. If I could choose, I wish Holden wouldn't hang out with Ron, but I guess I can't control who he is friends with."

Hermione lifted the bottle up to her lips and downed the rest of the alcohol.

"Well, it looks you've drank your share of alcohol tonight. Time to get you back to your bed." He said standing up.

"If you were so eager to get me in bed, you could just say so. No need to..." she drifted off as if losing her train of thought.

Harry only smiled, helping her up and looping her arm around his neck. First Draco and now Hermione, he wondered who else he would need to carry.

"You didn't enter the tournament," she said suddenly, causing his grip on her to slip for a second. Luckily, he registered his hold on her again before she could fall. And thank goodness he did, because they were on the stairs, so she would have a long fall ahead of her.

"How did you know?" he said quietly, seeing if any of the drunken students in the stairwells heard her proclamation.

She tried to shrug, which had little result since Harry was holding onto her. "I have a knack for analyzing things. You don't seem like a person interested in money or fame. You seem like someone who is just trying to get through life without too many bumps in the road."

Before Harry could reply, the girl's head drooped and he could hear her soft breathing.

By now most of the celebrating was over. Students were asleep or passed out, some in the comfort of their bed and others with the cold floor of the hallways. This was how Durmstrang was whenever there was a celebration, and Harry knew it would be hell for everyone tomorrow morning when the hangovers came.

As he stepped around a pile of mush that looked very much like someone's vomit, Hermione stirred beside him. She was neither fully awake nor full asleep, somewhere in between.

"You know, you aren't the monster everyone makes you out to be." She was drunk and probably tired, saying whatever came to her mind without filtering it first.

"I'm not?" He asked as they approached the door that would lead to the bedrooms of Hogwarts students. Almost as if sensing their arrival, the decoration on the door turned from yellow to red.

She pursed her lips and her eyebrows furrowed in concentration. Then she smiled when she found her answer. "You... you are a lot like a lost little bird with clipped wings and broken feet inside a metal cage."

"How comforting," he said dryly, knocking on the door in front of him.

Hermione ignored his comment and continued on. "Hopelessly trapped by everything. But... _I_ think you will find your way out."

The door swung opened before he could say anything back. On the other side stood a shorter girl who looked very much like the Weasley boy that Holden was with. There was the same distinct feature of ginger hair. Maybe this was his sister.

"She's had a little too much to drink. Would you mind taking her to her room?"

The girl's eyes widened when she realized he was speaking to her, then nodded shyly and took Hermione from him, never uttering a single word to him.

Before the girl closed the door, Hermione seemed to regain a semblance of her manners and bid him farewell.

"Goodnight. It has been a pleasure to meet you, Harry."

"Likewise Hermione."

* * *

 **Okay, so I realized that you guys can't look into my head and see the plan that I have for the story and that some things may be confusing. So not the next chapter, but the one after that will explain some things.**

 **Until next time.**

 **-Pyrrhical**


	6. Communication

"A phoenix can pretend to be a toad, but it will not lose its wings."

-Darrow Starkov

* * *

True to his prediction almost everyone was severely hungover. Even some of the teachers seemed to have their heads up in the clouds. The usual morning bustle was instead a slow dragging of feet, each student staggering with a different degree of grogginess.

Alcohol intoxication was a funny thing.

"Oh yeah, Harry," Adrik said, snapping the boy out of his stupor. "At the beginning of potions class last week, the one you two were _late_ for, a guy came looking for you."

Harry raised his eyebrow.

"Who was it?" Kirsten asked.

"Wasn't anyone from Durmstrang. I would know if they went to my school. So you have a two-thirds chance of guessing which school he is from."

Technically, Harry had half a chance of guessing since this person could only be from either Hogwarts or Beauxbatons, but now wasn't the time to enlighten Adrik on math. Harry contemplated this, then asked, "Was he pretty?" A question that was met with a questioning look by both his friends.

Finally realizing that Harry was not going to explain, Adrik answered. " _If_ I was on that side of the spectrum, I wouldn't say he's pretty. I mean he isn't ugly either. I've seen ugly. Jorgen Dragomir is butt-ugly. That guy was average. His lips were a little too big. I personally wouldn't date him, then again my standards are high."

"Well, that eliminates the students from Beauxbatons," Harry said, more to himself than anything.

Kirsten seemed to be following his train of thought. "So a Hogwarts student then. Maybe it was your twin."

"No, that guy wasn't as pretty as Harry's twin." Adrik shook his head. "Harry's twin is hot. I would date him. "

"Adrik... Holden looks exactly like Harry."

"Exactly, _so_ I would know if it was him."

"Yeah, but... nevermind," Kirsten said, waving it off.

"What? Harry is hot. Like forget puberty, he doesn't need that shit. He is hot and if I liked guys, I would definitely bang Harry. But I'm not, what a pity."

"See this is why Adrik and I are best friends."

Kirsten snorted. "A friendship built on a humongous man crush on you? I wonder how long it will last."

"Anyways, the boy left this paper for you when he couldn't find you."

"And how do you have it?" Kirsten asked as Harry took the folded sheet of paper from Adrik.

"I might have swiped it off Professor Blandan's desk." Adrik shrugged innocently.

Harry unfolded the yellow square sheet of paper. It was nothing big, about the size of his palm. And when he finished, the paper had two perpendicular lines of wrinkles running across it.

On the note was nothing more than a series of lines and dots:

A dash, three dots, a dash, two dots, three dashes, a dot, four dashes and four dots.

That was on the first line. On the second line was:

A dash, a dot, a dash, two dots, a dash, two dots, a dash, four dots, a dash, a dot, a dash and two dots.

A code, Harry thought immediately. But why would someone choose this code, because he certainly did not know it. How would he ever read the message if he did not know how to solve the code.

"I don't know what it means. Any clue?"

"I see the same thing as you, dots and lines," Adrik said, and Harry made a mental note that his friend had already looked at it. Maybe he was just acting like a child, but he did not trust easily and he certainly did not like people looking at his things.

The paper was passed to Kirsten, who was just as confused as the other two boys. "We will just keep an eye out for that boy who delivered the note, but it could just be a joke or a prank for all we know."

She had a point. It could have meant nothing, but why code it then? Why deliver it personally and not leave it for Harry to find? Even if it was to quench his curiosity, he needed to know the meaning of it and who sent it.

Although they had eliminated certain possibilities, Hogwarts still was an entire wizarding school. They were not short on students. There were hundreds, if not thousands of students and it wasn't like they would all be conveniently in the same place let alone a straight line for Adrik to inspect each one.

Adrik laughed and joked, "Maybe it is a fan letter for Harry. A love note for all we know."

Before anyone could shoot the idea down or laugh along, a mousy-haired boy approached them. Judging by his appearance, he was younger than them and very, very nervous. There were small signs like the way his hand trembled like he was having a spasm, or the way his eyes were constantly trained on the floor and not any of them.

"Harry Potter?" the boy asked, his words coming out in squeaks.

"Yes?" Harry replied. The boy made no eye contact, only a short glance in Harry's general direction.

"Mr. Ludovic Bagman, the Head of the British Department of Magical Games and Sports is looking for you." the young boy stuttered. "For the wand weighing ceremony."

Realizing they wouldn't get any further with the note, he bid Adrik and Kirsten goodbye, packed up his things and stood up.

The boy who was still looking at his feet didn't seem to notice any of this and remained frozen in spot.

"Lead the way," Harry said and the boy immediately scrambled forward, moving quickly with short-paced steps.

They walked for a while that Harry had to wonder if this boy even knew where he was going. Maybe Harry's mere presence had scared the boy so much he couldn't tell left from right.

Then the boy stopped so suddenly that his red robes were still flying forward. "Here it is," he said quietly, still frightened.

Harry made his way into the room and couldn't help but notice the way his absence had lifted a weight off the little boy. He also couldn't help but notice the way the boy smiled and waved at his brother Holden, who of course waved back. It seemed that his brother had quite the fanboy.

Everyone in the room, which included the other champions as well as the ministry personnel, the three headmasters, an old man, a jewel-covered woman and a middle-aged dope, all stood around. They were waiting for the last champion who arrived shortly after Harry.

On her way in, Harry caught Delacour watching him out of the corner of his eye.

"Alright, now that all our champions are here, we can begin the wand weighing ceremony." Bartemius Crouch Sr. declared.

"Wand weighing?" Holden asked under his breath, only loud enough for Harry to hear.

"You know, we've got to make sure our wands are working for when the tasks come," Harry said sarcastically. "Or maybe they just have nothing better to do."

Before long, they were shuffled away into different parts of the line. Each champion pulled out their wand, each one a unique stick of wood to go with the wizard or witch. Then the old man went down the line, inspecting each champion's wand. As he did so, he muttered to himself the type of wood and the core within. Some of the champions observed the room bored out of their minds. He could see Basile Zénon, the only boy champion from Beauxbaton, had closed his eyes and looked ready to faint. Clearly, he had too much to drink last night.

As the long process continued, Harry did not zone out or chat softly with his neighbouring champions, Elaina Perinne or Latisha Randle. Instead, he listened to the mumbling of the old wand expert.

Making wands were a difficult thing to learn, and Harry was by no means an expert in it. However, he knew that certain cores and woods were stronger in certain branches of magic or types of spells. Which meant that he would later make a visit to the library to find out more about Krum's Hornbeam, dragon heartstring wand, or Diggory's Ash, unicorn hair wand.

"Holly, phoenix feather. Perfect condition Mr. Potter." the old man said to his brother.

Harry, who was near the end, continued to wait until the man reached him. "Hmm..." he said when he held Harry's wand. The man ran his wrinkled fingers along the jet-black wood of his wand "Interesting. Ebony, Phoenix feather. A strange combination, but no doubt suited for someone like yourself."

With no other words and not bothering to explain himself, the man handed Harry back his wand and proceeded down the line. Maybe when he went to the library, he would research his own wand to find out what the man meant.

After what felt like another few hours, the ceremony for wand-weighing was over, only for a photo shoot to begin. They took countless pictures, by themselves, with champions from their school, a group photo. Then for some reason, they had to stay as the cameraman took the photos of the officials and anyone related to the tournament.

"It's the first Triwizard tournament with three times the regular champions, we need extra coverage." the curly, blond lady said.

By the time everything was finished, the sky had turned dark. Dinner was no doubt over, and maybe some of the students who were early birds had gone to sleep already.

The champions were reminded of the date of the first event and then dismissed.

The crowd almost ran to the door at the door as if their freedom was at stake. Harry stayed behind. He didn't like crowds and he had already suffered waiting for so long, a few seconds wouldn't kill him.

"Holden Potter!" a lady screamed when his brother was almost through the door.

So close to freedom.

The lady approached his brother, the same one who had yelled at the photographer to take more clear pictures. "Rita Skeeter. I am a journalist for the Daily Prophet and would love to have you interviewed. How is life for the Boy Who Lived? We all know about you as a baby, but tell me about the angst that comes along with being the saviour of the wizarding world. Anything scandalous, I mean you are a hormone-filled teenage boy. Any interesting stories for our readers? How's the Potter estate? It is almost the death anniversary of your mother, do you miss her?"

Holden only gaped at the woman, caught off-guard at the sudden barrage of questions.

The floating pen began to write despite his brother not saying anything.

As Harry walked by, he peered at the reporter's paper. Since Skeeter was only interested in his brother, she paid little attention to Harry. Clearly, she was not a journalist that cared much for the truth.

 _Holden Potter, may be the savior of the wizarding world, but how well do we really know him? What does he do when he is off studying at Hogwarts? As it turns out, Holden is incapable of committing to a long-term relationship. He has jumped from girl to girl as if they were sinking ships. He even gloats about the girls he had brought with him into the closets. A few stories even mention of being caught and then using unorthodox methods of persuasion on people of authority to avoid being in trouble..._

This lady was insane and Harry wasn't cruel. He wasn't going to let his brother suffer like this.

"Confringo." the fire-like blasting spell shot forward and exploded upon contact with the paper and quill. Harry walked up to them, purposely snapping the remnants of the magically-enchanted quill with the bottom of his shoe.

"What did you do-"

"My sincerest apologies. I thought I saw a spider on your paper and," he looked at the smoking ashes under his feet, "Perhaps I overreacted."

Skeeter did not take his explanation well. "Why you littl-"

Harry was not interested in listening to her swear. He turned to his brother, "Professor Imynda wants to speak to you. Best get going before you are late."

Then they were off, leaving the unreliable journalist fuming with anger.

As they got through the doorway, they ran into Hermione who smiled, having no doubt seen what had just happened.

"I was studying in the library and figured I would wait for you two."

"So you didn't eat dinner?" Harry asked.

Her face lit up in realization. "Must have slipped my mind."

"At least we can starve together, the wand-weighing ceremony took forever. And thanks Harry, for what you did in there."

"I did it because I'm sure you don't go around bringing girls with you into closets to do who knows what."

His brother flushed, looking a scarlet and Harry could only imagine if the article was actually published.

"Thank you." his brother repeated, then asked, "Where are we going?"

"To get food."

"Dinner is over," Hermione said pointedly.

"But the kitchen isn't."

Harry turned down a small hallway that didn't look like anyone frequented it. Small spider webs hung in the corners while a layer of dust coated the floor. Then he pushed open the two large doors that lead to a larger room and entered.

"Where are all the house elves?"

The kitchen was empty as always because not many knew of its location, and Durmstrang had no house elves. Not in the kitchen at least.

"It's self-serve." he said, grabbing a plate, a cup and a lid. Then he sat down on a tall wooden stool at a rectangular wooden table.

"Where's the food?" his brother asked.

Instead of answering, Harry showed him. He placed the metal lid over his empty plate and when he lifted the lid. His plate was empty no more. Replacing the emptiness was meatballs and mashed potato.

"Whatever you are in the mood for, it will appear on the plate," he explained.

Hermione and Holden repeated what Harry had done and soon the three of them were eating dinner together.

"I have to admit, this plate in the best chef in the world. I think I'm going to have to take it back with me when we leave." Holden said with a burger in both his hands.

"Slow down Holden, or you will get something on your uniform. The plate magically makes food, it does not magically clean your clothes." Hermione had gone for spaghetti.

Harry smiled. He felt strangely at ease.

"I'm starving Hermione, and I've put eating as a priority ahead of looking clean. Besides, if I spill ketchup on my robes or tie, it might not be that noticeable."

Clearly, that had not helped convince the girl. Hermione wrinkled her nose in pure disgust at the idea of stains.

"Holden's got a point. As long as he gets the stain on the right part of his uniform, people would barely notice it. Ketchup and mustard can go on his tie and mayo can go on his dress shirt. If only you wore green robes, then you would be safe from even relish."

His brother sighed. "If only I had been sorted into Slytherin, then again relish stains are not worth having to live with Malfoy."

"Slytherin?" Harry had heard that term before, along with three other ones. Kirsten had thought they were slang insults when she had heard them. Adrik mingled with other students to find that they were the name of Hogwarts houses. "Are they supposed to be the Hogwarts students that wear green?"

"Yeah. When you first go to Hogwarts, you are sorted into one of the four houses depending on your dominant personality trait. Cunning, smarts, loyalty, and bravery. Slytherin, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Gryffindor. Green for Slytherin, blue for Ravenclaw, yellow for Hufflepuff. And red for the best Hogwarts house... Gryffindor." his brother said excitedly as he flicked out his tie.

Harry picked up his cup and took his final sip of pop. "Sorting according to personality, wouldn't that isolate the students, creating the smart and dumb, cunning and not cunning," he said as he got up and placed his dishes in the sink. The plates also knew how to clean themselves.

Holden bit the tip of his fork. "I guess it kinda did."

"Well, I'm off to review my notes," Harry said, his mind too occupied on the code to stay for small talk. Hermione and his brother would show themselves out when they were done eating dinner.

As he reached the door, Hermione spoke up. She had said very little during dinner, mostly observing the interactions between the two brothers. "I heard that Durmstrang has houses too."

"They do," he confirmed her suspicions. Harry had hoped that would be it. She would only be curious about if there were houses.

"Which one are you in?"

His hand was still on the door and he was one foot out the door. He could have taken one more step and left them to wonder. He could have lied. He could have done anything that meant they wouldn't find out the truth, but they would find out eventually. As the tournament continued, more spotlights would be on him and his house would be revealed anyways.

"In Durmstrang, you are sorted into houses depending on the subject you are the best in. The house I am in is Dökk listir," he said meeting Hermione's eyes. She had wanted to know and now she would. He didn't want to see his brother's reaction when it clicked. As he left, he uttered the words. They held no great pride like Holden's when his brother had announced his Hogwarts house. They were more of a mutter if anything, but they were still loud enough to hear.

"The House of Dark Arts."

* * *

 **Not my best chapter, but it's better to get some stuff out of the way so that the fun can start.**

 **Until next time.**

 **-Pyrrhical**


	7. Dreams

"I often find that dreams tend to be more truthful than reality."

-Darrow Starkov

* * *

October 31st.

October 31st was Halloween, a celebration recognized by both the muggle world and the wizarding world alike. It was held in the fall, as the last of summer's rays faded, the leaves died, and winter was on its way. The air was chillier and at the same time drier. It was almost as if the whole world was on the verge of death, waiting to be reborn in the spring, after months of suffering in the winter.

Despite the weather, children and adults honoured the celebrations. Every year, the list of tasks was present with duties like trick-or-treating, costume parties, jack-o'-lanterns, apple bobbing, and haunted attractions.

Halloween was a time for everyone to let out their inner demons while the real monsters came out to play. A time of superstition and mystery.

But on the Halloween in 1981, the wizarding world faced a mystery much bigger than it had ever seen.

The disappearance of Harry Potter.

* * *

 **31 October 1981**  
 **Godric's Hollow, West Country, England, Great Britain**

Everything had moved so fast. She could remember the soothing peace that melted away to panic and fear when Voldermort himself came knocking at her door. With him was only _one_ other death eater, but it didn't matter if it was one or one hundred death eaters, she was no match for the dark lord.

Hubris was never her fatal flaw, neither was optimism.

She would die, it was absolutely certain and she had accepted that, made peace with the idea the moment she joined the Order of Phoenix. But her children, her two sons, that was what pained her the most. Both were only a year old and now they would meet their fate as well. Such a short life, she thought bitterly to herself. The good die young. Too young. They didn't deserve her fate and she would do anything to stop or at least delay it.

When faced with death, even mere seconds become valuable.

With that thought in mind, she had thrown herself in front of her twins as a green light shot from the dark lord's wand. She could not see which of the twins Voldemort had aimed the killing curse at. The cribs were too close, but it did not matter who the Dark Lord had aimed to kill first. They would all be dead soon enough. There was no one coming. The order wouldn't come in time and James... she prayed that James would not come home or he would die too. She didn't want him to die too.

The spell shot her directly in the chest and she knew she was dying. A quick and painless death, but it all seemed to move in slow motion. Millions of thoughts raced through her head, each one a bolt of lightning.

Petunia, the sister she had always cared for. Her parents, who had always wished her nothing but the best. Severus, one of her closest childhood friends. James, the man who had stolen her heart and refused to give it back.

She would miss each and every one dearly.

And her children. They would follow her to whatever afterlife or reincarnation that followed death. She was sure of that. There would be no reason for Voldemort to keep her two children alive, especially if one of them were destined to defeat or be defeated by the dark lord. And even _if_ by some miraculous chance they did survive, they would grow up without their mother. Lost in the world. Alone.

They would never know how much their mother loved them, nor would they remember her in their older ages. Lily would never watch her two boys grow into men, or help raise her grandchildren. It was painful. Not death itself, but everything she would miss after her death.

Still, she regretted nothing. She had given away her life for her children and it was worth it.

People had always said that someone's life would flash before them as they died. This was partially accurate for Lily. She saw snippets of her life play out before her like a slideshow, but there was one memory that stuck out to her the most. It was when she was younger, still living with her parents and Petunia. A time before her Hogwarts letter had arrived. Before her magic had shown itself. That day she had played alone in the house while Petunia was off at piano lessons. Lily didn't like the piano.

Eventually, Lily found herself in the kitchen and began to play chef. Cooking was fun. As a six-year-old, she could neither reach the stove nor did she have to knowledge of how to turn it on. It frustrated her that she would not be able to cook like her father. She would not be able to make mouth-watering food. Then the stove turned on, as if by _magic_. She looked around and saw no one, then shrugged and continued to play chef. At her young age she had not known how hot a stove really was, so she inched closer and closer with curiosity. When she had almost touched it, her mother had run in and pulled her away from what would have been a very painful incident. And in the process, her mother had burned her own hand.

Her mother's scream pierced the air.

Later Lily sat in a hospital room facing her mother whose hand was bandaged.

 _"Why did you burn yourself, mommy?"_

 _"So you wouldn't."_

 _"But you hurt yourself."_

 _"It's motherly instinct."_

 _Lily crinkled her nose. She had never heard that term before and truth be told, she was far more intelligent than most her age. Again, hubris was not her fatal flaw._

 _"What is motherly instinct?" She had asked, pronouncing the word for the very first time. She enunciated it perfectly, but the syllables felt weird on her tongue._

Her m _other had stared at her deep in thought, then answered, "It is when a mother will do anything for her children, even throw down her own life."_

 _Lily asked more about the new and foreign phrase, her mother's only response was waving off her questions._

 _"You will understand when you have children of your own."_

Her mother had been right, Lily thought, thinking now of her own children. They were merely infants but she loved both of them with her heart.

Motherly instinct.

There were few words that could describe a mother's love, much less her actions and even those words could not be easily be explained.

* * *

James was devastated.

Something he could never really recover from was Lily's death. The sorrow and agony would knock him down every time. So he tried not to think about her. His beautiful wife. The girl he had a crush on since he had first met her at Hogwarts. The girl who he had gone after, despite her being entirely out of his league. The girl who rolled her eyes at him whenever he asked her out. The girl who had finally agreed to date him. The girl who had accepted his proposal when he dropped to one knee. The girl he had married.

And that was the most painful part. They had stood at the altar, Lily being as radiantly beautiful as ever in her wedding dress. They had exchanged vows and he had promised her a happy life together. Promised her protection and safety. Promised that nothing could separate them, not even death.

He had promised her so much and gave her so little. His promises were pathetic, nothing more than words with no action, flimsier than wet cardboard. She did not receive the happy life she deserved. She felt no protection when the death eaters came. Voldemort himself came and where was he? Where was he when they killed her, when she was murdered? When she had laid on the cold floor alone with nothing but the sounds of her baby boys? Did she weep for him? Did she blame him? Did she regret marrying him?

And that was what haunted him for years, an old ghost always hovering over his shoulder, thoughts weighing on his mind. He was not there even as she died. He had broken all of his promises to her and with that, his heart broke as well. Aching as if it was pierced by a thousand knives.

Everyone had told him not to worry. Not to blame himself.

There was no way he could have known.

There was no way he could have stopped it.

There was nothing he could have done.

But that was not true. He could have been there for his wife, died by her side. Comforted her as the death eaters came. Spent their last few moments together. Maybe, just maybe, his presence could have delayed the attack. Or if he was there, he could have alerted the order of the attack. Perhaps he could have distracted them and allowed her to escape.

It was his fault no matter how many excuses others made for him.

He could still remember that night, the memory chilling him to the bone. Everything was frighteningly clear.

Of course, it was. He had lived the night over and over again in his nightmares. Every detail was etched into his mind. The moment he walked through the door he knew there was something off. Something gone amiss, but he had not thought of it too much. Albus had ordered him on a mission and he was exhausted. His weariness blinded him temporarily until he noticed Lily was gone. He pulled out his wand and rushed through the house, feeling a new boost of adrenaline fueled by fear. He had lost all logic as different scenarios played out in his mind. Then he saw it. There was only one room left with its door opened just a crack. He had approached it slowly, the dread building up inside to a catastrophic height.

She was dead.

His eyes had registered the sight of her dead body first. Then as his mind understood the scene in front of him, his legs had given in, his body crashing to the floor. He felt nothing. No pain. No fatigue. Nothing and only nothing. Then the sadness came at him in waves, colliding against him with such strength. He felt like he was being dragged under the current, drowning in the water.

He made his way towards her, hoping it was nothing more than some sick and twisted illusion. Just some sadistic bastard's perverted imagination. Or maybe she would wake up and laugh at his scared face, saying it was only just a joke.

Then he would wake up with a fresh stream of tears running down his face, his sheets soaked in his own sweat. And for a moment he would be relieved. He would think that it was all only just a nightmare. Then it would dawn on him. Lily was still dead and nothing could bring her back.

His nightmare was his reality.

* * *

Harry rolled in bed that night. He had always had trouble sleeping and the thunder that roared outside did nothing to help. It was getting hotter in his room by the second and there just didn't seem to be any comfortable way he could lie in bed. He turned again and considered just smacking himself over the head with a textbook so he would be at least away from consciousness. He didn't want another sleepless night. Hours of rolling in bed never helped anyone and he certainly wouldn't be any different.

What he didn't know was that he would fall asleep that night, on the night of Halloween. In fact, not only would he fall asleep, but he would do something he rarely ever did.

He would dream. He would see the secrets of his unconscious and imagination mixed together, and sprinkled with truth.

He was back in the cave, the sealed stone cave. And he could see himself, his ten-year-old self. His limbs were smaller, frailer than they were now without the years of training at Durmstrang and puberty. Yet, at the same time, they were surprisingly strong for someone trapped in a cave, too strong for someone who had perhaps lived the past nine years in a cave.

He watched as the small fire in his hand extinguished. If only he had known about magic back then.

The men came once again, here to save him from wherever he was. He saw it all play out, but not through the eyes of his ten-year-old self. It was almost as if he had been there himself, an omniscient being. He saw one of the men run up to his younger self. The man he would later find out was his father.

"It's him. I do believe it is Mr. Harry Potter." Harry looked at the man who said that, and saw the headmaster of Hogwarts. Dumbledore himself stood there watching, with a third man behind him.

The third was a black, broad-shouldered man who towered over the headmaster. He said nothing as the whole thing unfolded and Harry's attention soon turned back to his father.

"Quickly, we need to take him to St. Mungo's. Who knows what he went through."

And then he felt that same familiar sensation of throwing up and choking on his vomit, both feelings all at once.

Apparition.

Then his feet hit the floor and he stumbled forward, his landings never perfect. But no one even bothered to bat an eyelash at him, or at least not his present day self. All the medics and anyone close enough stared at the boy that was in the arms of James Potter.

"Help him!" his father cried out. And in that moment Harry saw so much emotion and so much love from his father that he had to wonder, how could a man like that exile his own son away from home?

He had no answer, no matter how creative or insane.

"He fainted when we apparated. Is he okay?" his father yelled, alarming other patients.

"I don't know." one of the medics said. She seemed young, probably knew to the job and not used to the screaming.

"What do you mean you don't know?"

"Calm down James and let them do their job. We have to take precautions since this could be a trap."

"It's him, Albus. I know it."

"But is it really? Young Harry was taken by Voldemort and his followers. There are infinite possibilities of what they might have done to him. It is good to hope for the best, but you must also prepare for the worst."

"After I lost Lily, the only thing that kept me going was taking care of Holden and the possibility of finding Harry."

The medics came rushing and eventually the unconscious boy was taken from his father and immediately examined. They poked and prodded at the child, testing nerves and a variety of other things. It was almost as if they had a list of things to see what was wrong with someone. As the medics went down that long, very long list, notes were taken. Harry tried to step forward to read what was written down but there were two things that stopped him from being able to do so. The first was that the medics were constantly moving around his ten-year-old self, like vengeful bees who had their nest broken. And even when Harry caught a glance at the notes, well the handwriting of the medics was simply unreadable. It was rumoured to be a requirement of the occupation.

So he was forced to wait, just like his father, Dumbledore and the third man. His father had stayed silent, his attention on the medics and his son, while Dumbledore and the third man quietly conversed. When Harry tried to eavesdrop on their conversation, he could only hear little snippets. Something about future arrangements and making sure the proper news got out.

The medics ceased what they were doing. They were done their analysis.

"How is he?" his father asked, again with so much concern and love.

"He's fine, just fainted from the sudden apparition. Some people just don't like that form of transportation. Give him a few hours and he should wake up."

This time it was Dumbledore who stepped in to ask the questions. "That is it?"

"That's it," the medic confirmed.

By now James was at his son's bedside, but the Hogwarts headmaster stayed with the medic. The third man stayed back, lurking by the walls.

"There is nothing else? He has been missing in the hands of a dangerous captor for many years and there is nothing else wrong with the boy?" the headmaster questioned the medic once more, not wanting to make it known that the boy was Harry Potter.

The medic frowned, not used to his work being questioned, much less his capabilities. People came, got their results and accepted them. And frankly, he was quite tired after his long shift at the hospital. It was almost time for him to head home.

"There is nothing else wrong with him." the medic said one last time and took his leave, not wanting to be questioned again.

Later, Dumbledore turned to James and the third man. "Kingsley, will you alert Severus of the turn of recent events. When young Harry here wakes up in a few hours, we will need Severus' mastery in Legilimency to inspect the boy's mind."

The third man nodded and left.

When there was no one else, the headmaster turned towards Harry's father who remained at the side of the bed, waiting for his son to wake up.

"In the meanwhile, James I need to speak with you."

Harry raised an eyebrow not that anyone saw it. By now he had accepted that he was a viewer watching the past, invisible to those in the past. He leaned in closer to hear the conversation once more, but he heard none of it. This time it was not because they were speaking too quietly.

He found himself out of the hospital. Instead, he was standing in his home, or what was supposed to be home. He had not been in the Potter house at Godric's Hollow in years. In fact, the moment of the past that he was currently watching was perhaps the last time he had been there, in reality, not a dream.

The lights everywhere in the house was turned off. Only one light dared to shine in the living room of the house where four men sat in a circle on the couch. There was James, Dumbledore, Kingsley and a man Harry assumed was Severus.

Severus.

Harry looked at the master legilimens and recognized the sallow-skinned man as one of the professors from Hogwarts. In fact, it was the professor that had been so close to Dumbledore. A close confidant of the headmaster through the years it seemed.

"What is your diagnosis, Severus?" Dumbledore inquired.

"Nothing."

"So much for a master in legilimency." his father scoffed.

"If you would have let me finish Potter," the man sneered back. Clearly, there was a little bad blood between the two. "My diagnosis is that there is nothing in that boy's mind besides the events of the last seventeen days, all of which he spent inside the cave you found him in. A mind is often layers and layers of complexity, each one of memories or knowledge. Unless it is a simpleton's mind, I suspect you would know a thing about that Potter." the professor took the opportunity for an insult.

James said nothing. As much as he wanted to defend his ego, Harry's father wanted to know about his son's situation more.

"The boy has layers like anyone else, for sound, taste, and speech. He also has layers and layers of knowledge, far more than other's his age. The issue is when it comes to his personal memories and experiences, not his knowledge. It is as if he has not existed before seventeen days ago."

The Headmaster of Hogwarts stroked his white beard, which was shorter than it was during the Triwizard champion selection. Perhaps the beard style of the time.

"Is it possible that someone has perhaps taken his memories? A strong memory charm that suppresses his past?" Kingsley spoke for the first time, his words slow and his voice deep.

Severus shook his head at the possibility. "If they were taken, there would be a gap where the memories should be and if they were suppressed, then I would be able to unleash them, or at least find them."

James and Dumbledore stared on both deep in thought. Again it was Kingsley's low voice that spoke. He asked the question they were all thinking, "So now what?"

"Right now young Harry is asleep a few rooms down from Holden. He is old enough to and will attend Durmstrang Institute for the time being."

 _Say something, stop him._ Harry wanted to tell his father but knew it was useless. His father could not hear him even if Harry dropped to his knees and started begging. Besides, this was a moment of the past and he knew how it all ended. He knew he would be shipped off to Durmstrang the next morning.

Strangely enough, his father did stand up as if he had heard. He opened his mouth and a small part of Harry relinquished all logic. He is really going to object.

"I agree with Dumbledore. Harry," his father took a breath, "will leave tomorrow."

The words that had sealed his fate for the years to come, spoken by his father who had not rejected the idea of sending his son away.

The single living room light turned off. Everyone disappeared in the darkness, but in a matter of seconds, the sun rose. It was morning now, everything illuminated by a distant star.

Standing in the doorway was himself, his younger self that was. Beside the little ten-year-old boy was Dumbledore and Kingsley, both men ready to apparate. Facing them was his father who stood unmoving like a statue. The adults were exchanging words.

Of his entire dream, this was the only part he was present and conscious in.

Harry knew what would happen next. He knew that this was the last time he would see his home.

He looked around. The Potter house in Godric's Hollow in this dream was exactly the way he remembered it. The carpeted floor and ugly vase that stood guard beside the staircase.

And yet, there was something his younger self had not seen that day he was taken away to Durmstrang. He had not seen the other little boy who stood behind the staircase vase. The little boy who had snuck into his room the night before to talk and play. The little boy who watched the doorway with his blue eyes and had a lightning scar on his forehead.

Harry had not known that his brother was there that day to send him off.

"Take care." his father said, the last words he would hear his father speak for years.

His younger self only nodded.

Then Dumbledore had held his arm and the sickening feeling of being apparated came again. He landed once more, this time not in a hospital or a house, but in a castle. White walls surrounded them and a man came to greet them. Headmaster Karkaroff.

"Who is this child and what is he doing here?" the Durmstrang headmaster asked the Hogwarts headmaster. Aside from being headmasters, another thing they had in common was the irritation plastered over their faces.

"Harry Potter."

Karkaroff's face was a mixture of shock and a trace of something Harry could not recognize. "So the rumours in the news is true then. He has been found."

"Yes, and he is attending Durmstrang Institute."

Harry rolled again. Suddenly he was no longer standing but lying in his bed at Durmstrang. He rubbed his eyes, seeing the sunlight peeking into his room through the windows. The thunder and storm had stopped while he was sleeping.

And what a sleep it was. It had been a while since he had slept so well, but he could not remember the dream he had. There were small snippets and fragments, but most of it was a blur. He rubbed his eyes again and this time rolled out of bed. He tried recalling the dream, but he could not. It was like the dream was at the tip of his mind but he just could not remember.

Finally giving up, he picked up the paper that sat on his bedside and looked at the code that was inscribed on it. He needed to solve the code and find out who had given it to him.

November 1st.

He had a long day ahead.

* * *

 **A few questions answered and a lot of questions unanswered. The beauty of not knowing the answer yet myself. Writing this was surprisingly fun I have to admit.**

 **Until next time.**

 **-Pyrrhical**


	8. Trapdoors

"We are such curious creatures. We spend lifetimes looking for answers, but in the end, we only end up with more questions. Perhaps all answers lie in death, but I am afraid I would not know, for I am not dead yet."

-Darrow Starkov

* * *

"I need your help," he said straightforwardly. Time was a valuable thing after all.

Hermione, who was sitting down at a library table, looked up from her book. She was not pleased, and he doubted the copy of _Rune Dictionary_ she currently had in her hands was to blame.

"You've been avoiding Holden and I," she said, mirroring his candidness.

"I have."

And he would have kept avoiding them, but he needed her help. Harry was no closer to cracking the code or understanding the message that was scribbled onto the little yellow slip of paper. Kirsten, Adrik and him had spent countless hours ripping their hair out trying to figure out what it meant. Soon Kirsten had given up on it, but it seemed that Adrik and Harry just could not live with the mystery unsolved. The two boys had tried to follow and stalk many of the students from Hogwarts, but they were no closer to finding out the mysterious sender. There were too many faces and it was simply as if the writer of the note had just disappeared.

They had gone over the situation of that day in potions class when the note was delivered. And that was when they had their most recent breakthrough. They had already figured out that he was a boy from Hogwarts, but what they also figured out was that the boy was a muggleborn or at the very least a half-blood.

 _"I told you, his face wasn't ugly... but his shirt was. He wore a shirt with this disastrous design, like horizontal and vertical lines crisscrossing each other to make this checkered-"_

 _"Plaid, you mean." Kirsten had said. When both boys look at her surprised, she only shrugged her shoulders. "I once dated a muggle, apparently this style is very 'hip'. What? I know people other than you two idiots."_

 _"This muggle boy..." Adrik said intrigued by Kirsten's love life._

 _"So whoever delivered this note is related to muggles," Harry said quietly to himself as Adrik questioned about Kirsten's mysterious muggle ex-boyfriend._

And so, there was a very good possibility that the code was some muggle code. It would explain why neither he, Kirsten or Adrik understood it. Harry had spent his entire life, or well since he was found in that cave, at Durmstrang surrounded by magic. Adrik was a pureblood who knew less about muggles than a textbook on goblins. Kirsten was a half-blood, but her mother who was a muggle died early on in her life. With a distant father and what happened to her brother, well she had other problems to deal with. She didn't exactly spend her time yearning to learn about muggles. Then there was the fact that Durmstrang tended to have a little bias or prejudice against muggles.

And that was how he was here asking for help. He needed Hermione's help. She was a muggle and quite possibly the smartest muggle he knew. If she couldn't solve it, then he might as well have chewed and swallowed the yellow paper, because it would never be solved.

"Why were you avoiding us?" she asked, her voice was not cold, but definitely hurt and curious.

If he was honest, he felt like a criminal standing on trial. Lying wasn't going to help his case.

"Usually when people find out that Harry Potter is in the house of Dark Arts, well they avoid me. So I thought I would save you two the trouble."

"Holden is your brother and I am your fr...acquaintance. Have a little more faith in us."

"Easier said than done."

She looked at him silently, the moved on as if their discussion had never happened. "What do you need help with?"

He could almost feel his shoulders slump as he sat down in the seat next to her.

"I got this note and I don't know what it says. I don't know who sent it either, only that they had a tie to muggles. So I was wondering if you knew anything about this code."

He unfolded the paper and showed her the message. It was the same as before.

On the first line, there was a dash, three dots, a dash, two dots, three dashes, a dot, four dashes and four dots. On the second line was a dash, a dot, a dash, two dots, a dash, two dots, a dash, four dots, a dash, a dot, a dash and two dots.

The paper was beyond crumpled by now. He and Adrik had searched for invisible ink, read it through a mirror. Needless to say, the paper had suffered at their hands.

"Well, you are right. This yellow piece of paper is a sticky note. A muggle thing," she explained when she noticed he didn't understand. "So whoever you are looking for probably has some muggle blood in them. As for the message, I can't tell what it says."

"It's not a muggle code, unless..." she started tapping her finger on the table. "Morse code. It's a form of muggle communication, but usually it is heard and not written down. _If_ this is Morse code, then we have another problem. Whoever wrote this didn't leave spaces between the dashes and dots to signify a new letter. Without knowing which of the dots and which of the dashes form a letter, well there are thousands of possibilities."

"Alright, thank you. I can take it from here."

Hermione looked at him offended. "You think that you can drag me into this mystery and just leave. I'm curious what the note says and besides, it would take you years to crack a code that you don't even know well."

"I just thought that you would be busy doing something else. Seeing as how much you care about school, I didn't want to take away your valuable studying time."

She closed her runes book. "I could have stopped studying hours ago and still get perfect. Sometimes I wonder why I wasn't in Ravenclaw."

"So what are you still doing in a library then, waiting for people to ask you for help with cracking Morse codes?"

"I figured a little extra knowledge couldn't hurt since the first task of the tournament is coming up soon."

"My brother isn't here preparing for the task? You and he are usually glued to the hip."

"That's what everyone thinks. Holden went out to play quidditch with Ron Weasley, riding on his broom clears his head and stops him from being a nervous wreck over the task."

"So you aren't sitting in the stands and watching him because?"

"Harry I am not your brother's stalker, and I hate quidditch. A bunch of people flying chasing after a ball only for whichever team to catch the snitch to win? And it seems a little barbaric."

He laughed.

"Well if you excuse me, I'm off to see what this note says. Nothing incriminating I hope," she said, plucking the note from his hand as she got up.

"Fingers crossed," he said. "And... Hermione, you _are_ my friend."

* * *

Time moved a lot faster looking back at it. Days had passed. There was no contact with Malfoy and nothing else really happened. Hermione needed time to crack the code and Harry needed to prepare for a task he didn't even know. That didn't stop Adrik from constantly pestering him about the coded message. At times it seemed the Adrik was more excited about the contents of the note than Harry.

"Harry," Adrik said, busting through the bedroom door. "Rise and shine, today is the day."

They were currently in Harry's dorm.

Since Durmstrang sorted its students based on subjects they best excelled on, the students also slept in the same dorms as the people in their house. This was where Harry was glad that he was in the house of Dark Arts. Even though Durmstrang was renowned for teaching its students the dark arts, not many of said students were exceptionally good at it. Other than Harry and three older students, no one else in the school was sorted into the Dark Arts house, or none of them chose to be in it. Which meant that all the empty rooms and extra space was equally divided among the four students. This also meant Harry didn't have to share his room with bratty clean-freaks or cavemen who snored at night.

Harry was glad that Adrik wasn't charging into his room just to ask about the note. As for his friend's wake up call, well Harry was already up. He had not been able to sleep last night. Thoughts ran through his mind, most of them regarding the day's events. When the sun came up, Harry rolled out of bed. He had finished buttoning the last button when Adrik came in.

Today was the first task of the Triwizard Tournament.

And he still had no idea what it was going to be. No one did.

There were rumours of course. Harry found there were always rumours. The champions would have to travel to catch the yetis that were said to live near the Durmstrang castle, or they would have to travel to America and kidnap the secretary of education. Even the teachers joined in on the speculations and the gambling of who would win.

"You're not collecting bets on the task?"

"Don't worry, the more people have time to think about it, the more they gamble. It's all part of the strategy dude. Just wanted to make sure you weren't going to chicken out. I put some good money on you."

"I appreciate the support," Harry said sarcastically.

Adrik drummed his fingers against the wall. Harry found that Adrik was always fidgety. The guy just couldn't sit still. Which meant constant tapping of fingers or feet for the last few years of Harry's life.

"Alright, alright. Good luck man. Break a leg, but not both of them or else I'm pretty sure you will fail the task. Know that Kirsten and I will be proud of you no matter how badly you embarrass yourself. But if you embarrass yourself too much, we might be able to meet in public anymore."

The words slowly faded as Adrik walked away.

Harry got his wand and left his room, heading towards the stadiums that were reserved for the task. He had just turned into the third hallway when he heard footsteps. He was going to smack Adrik if he came back to wish him more luck.

"I figured it out." Nope. Not Adrik unless his best friend turned into a girl. Or magically switched out his vocal cords with a certain bushy haired witch.

"What?" he said turning to Hermione.

"The code. I figured it out," she whispered. Her voice was soft enough that only he could hear her and he had to wonder why she was so secretive. They said nothing more as they walked along with the crowd of students heading to the stadium until Harry saw an opportunity.

"Did you see the official's assistant? I wish I had her hair."

"You know the male champion from Beauxbaton tried to hit on me, Basile Zénon. I told him no and he kept going until my boyfriend showed up and scared him off. What a jerk."

"I can't believe it's finally time. I hope Cedric wins. Time to show people some Hufflepuff power!"

The chatter was loud and there was barely enough room to move, but slowly Harry and Hermione edged towards the white walls of the hallway which seemed to have been designated as the slow lane. Then he turned into an empty hallway and pulled Hermione with him. Everyone was too excited for them to notice two students disappearing in a crowd of hundreds.

They kept walking then stopped. Harry leaned against one of the walls of the narrow hallways, while Hermione leaned against the other on. The small hallways were always so out of place in Durmstrang. While the main halls were white or orange due to the light cast on them from the torches, the smaller hallways were always dark and narrow. It was like one architect had designed the main halls and another had designed the smaller halls. Still, Harry wasn't complaining. There were times when he found the dark and small paths useful.

"After numerous attempts I got it. The first line was easy. It says 'dragons'. The second line took a while because I couldn't make a word out of it, or at least not one that made sense. And then I realized that the first dash in the second line isn't part of a letter. It is actually a dash, which makes the second line '-an ally'."

"The first task. Dragons." Harry said as the dots connected, but could he trust the note. I mean he could have sent a coded message to the other champions saying 'unicorn', but that didn't mean he had an inkling of an idea if there were unicorns or not. Then again, why would someone put all this effort into it if it was just a prank? And if he was honest, it was a pretty lame prank.

"That's what I thought, so I did some investigating. In the woods, there were burn marks on the trees and a bunch of scratches that would fit the claws of a dragon. I think if not for this task, the dragons will somehow be incorporated into the tournament. That is unless Durmstrang keeps dragons as pets to guard the woods."

"No, the snowmen guard the forest," he said jokingly.

"Very funny Harry," she said in almost a mocking tone, but he could see the manifestation of a smile.

He stood up straight. It was almost time for the tournament to begin and they didn't have enough time to sit in the library studying dragons. "Dragons live worldwide, but most of them prefer warmer climates. If they stay in the cold too long, they get restless and irritated. I don't think they would bring the dragons any earlier than they have to."

"Which means they will probably be used in the first task and shipped back out," Hermione said, completing his train of thought. "What do you know about dragons?"

"Not much."

"I read a book on them once. Dragons are generally aggressive, so peace or fleeing isn't an option unless you have wings. Traps are usually how they are taken down, but I don't think you will have time to set it up, and I doubt you have exploding sheep in your pocket. Dragons are distracted by shiny things, but that will only temporarily divert its attention. The only real advice I have for you is to stab it somewhere there aren't scales."

He nodded. It wasn't much, but it was better than knowing nothing. "Does my brother know yet?"

"No, I haven't told him. I haven't even seen him today."

"Okay, I'll try to tell him before the task."

They walked back into the crowd and moved towards the stadium before parting ways.

"Good luck," Hermione said as she went towards the stands section while he went to the tent for champions.

When he entered, the main tent was empty except for a guard who checked to make sure random students weren't stumbling in. He then proceeded to go into a neighbouring tent which was labelled Durmstrang Institute and found his headmaster there, along with the other two champions. Viktor Krum sat on the single bench in the tent while Vanja Durik paced the perimeter of the tent. Her long legs allowed her to cover the distance, which meant she was finished 10 laps before the something broke the silence. Headmaster Karkaroff walked out back into the main tent which connected to all three schools.

"What are we waiting for?" the Durmstrang Headmaster said angrily. The folds of the tents did little to block out any sound.

"One of the champions aren't here yet." explained an elderly voice. The headmaster of Hogwarts Harry would guess.

"Who?"

"Potter."

"He's in the tent right now you fool. I've been staring at him for the last hour while we have been waiting."

"Igor, I would advise you check your temper. _Holden_ Potter is not here yet."

Silence, then Karkaroff spoke again. This time in a softer tone, but Harry could hear the restrained fury and the urge to strangle something. A former death eater after all. "Where is he?"

"It is not time yet and-"

A ruffling sound as someone entered, then a pair of quick footsteps headed for the Hogwarts tent.

"Finally we can begin." There were a few snickers from the other tents

Maybe Harry would get Holden a watch for Christmas.

"It's time to begin." Headmaster Karkaroff said as he came back in. "You, exit through that way, you through that way and you," he said looking at Harry. "You go through that way. Now! Move it."

The three students obliged and went to their respected exit in the maroon tent.

Harry pushed the flap aside and stepped out. He saw the cheering crowd a safe distance above in the stands and all the other champions at the ground level. But the nine students were not the only ones there.

The floor trembled as trapdoors began to open. A platform began to rise, and the audience gasped. Looking down, the students in the stands had a view of what was on the platform before any of the champions did.

It seemed that they had guessed right. There were dragons. Nine trapdoors for nine dragons to be exact, one for each champion.

"Shit."

* * *

 **What better way to show how utterly screwed they are than by swearing?**

 **Not the most fun chapter to write, but I needed somewhere to throw in all the foreshadowing and to set things up.**

 **Until next time.**

 **-Pyrrhical**


	9. Victory

"The best plans are the craziest. Otherwise, they do not succeed or they are just too boring, mostly the former."

-Darrow Starkov

* * *

One of the first things he noticed, besides the dragons that were as large as skyscrapers, was the fact that there was no snow. It was strange when you spent your entire life at Durmstrang, to go outside and find there was no snow. It was only on those occasional rare summer days when the heat of the sun managed to penetrate the freezing north.

The ground was covered in dried dirt, with the occasional patches of grass and large boulders. If anything, it resembled the famous muggle attraction, the Grand Canyon. It would seem there was a barrier high above was to block the weather out.

"Welcome ladies, gentlemen and various creatures. This is the first task of the Triwizard Tournament. It is especially important since the champions will be placed on a ranking board based on today's events. You might have thought you had seen it all. But this Triwizard Tournament will be like no other one. It shall go down in history and as such, things will be different. For the first task, dragons have been randomly selected for each champion." Crouch announced over the speakers in the stadium.

"They want us to fight dragons?" One of the Hogwarts champions asked. Latisha Randle, he believed her name was.

There was no way Crouch heard her questions. The roaring of the dragons and the buzz of the crowd was too big of a barrier. But it was almost like the British ministry official had read her mind.

"The champions will be fighting the dragons."

Latisha's face blanched.

The crowd cheered, ready for bloodshed, or at least major injuries. Of course they would cheer, they were not the ones who had to do it. Then again, the champions had chosen to enter despite the risk, or at least the other champions had. Harry was no closer to finding out who had put his name in the goblet. He had told Adrik and Kirsten about it, and a little part of him had hoped that it was just a prank from Adrik. But it was not, they were both as clueless as him. Which meant someone, friend or foe, was planning something and he was a part of their plans.

Maybe it was the same person who sent the note, but he doubted it.

"Maybe fighting dragons won't be so bad," Latisha said, more to comfort herself than to assure anyone else.

"The rules are simple. Anything goes. Once you have taken down your dragon, you can retrieve the egg that is on the dragon's back. If you wish to give up or are severely injured, you will be taken out immediately, but you will not get your egg which is an important clue for the next task. Dragons are ruthless and powerful beasts. They are known for killing wizards and witches, the Ministry of Magic classifying them as XXXXX."

Crouch continued, but it seemed like his words only made the dragons angrier. Or maybe it was the very thick and heavy chains which stopped them from flying away or killing everyone, for now.

After what felt too soon, Crouch finished his speech and had announced the dragon that each champion was fighting.

None of the champions had the same dragon it would seem, so making a show was more important than fairness. It would be more interesting to watch nine different and unique dragons, but whichever champion got the hardest would have a tougher time than the rest.

And it seemed that lucky individual would be Harry.

All dragons were dangerous. He was not disrespecting any breed, but his dragon was definitely considered one of the _more_ dangerous types. It was the largest one there, probably the largest breed of dragons. The Ukrainian Ironbelly, it was called and for good reason. Harry's dragon had a distinctive type of scales that made the dragon look a metallic grey-silver. It was almost as if the dragon wore an armour of steel around itself.

He needed to approach this logically.

Harry excelled at both dark arts class and defence against dark arts, which was quite ironic. But this meant that he was good at duelling. The best in his year, and probably some of the older years too. Battling a dragon was almost like battling another person. Well except for the fact that a dragon had scorching fiery breath instead of a wand, and it had wings, and it was almost ten times bigger than Harry with a scale armour.

 _Logic_. Logic was his best friend.

He needed to remain calm and to adapt. No one ever accomplished anything by losing their head. To defeat anyone, or in this case any creature, he needed to exploit a weakness. Any weakness at all.

His dragon was the biggest, which meant it would hurt most and that brute force was not an option because the dragon would have a hell lot more force. But it also meant its movement would be slower than others. Larger things always moved slower, unless his dragon had an extra pair of wings stored in a pocket or something.

Speed would be his ally and hopefully so would gravity.

His mind was racing to come up with a plan and then to refine it as Crouch's words came to an end.

The crowd cheered again, and Harry had to wonder how many of them betted that at least one of the champions would die. He would have reassured himself that the ministry would not let anyone die, but he would be foolish to do so. Champions had died in the past and that was the exact reason why they stopped hosting the tournament. So why on earth would they start again, and make it even more dangerous?

"Begin!"

The chains broke loose and the dragons immediately sprung into action. Some hurling out fireballs and others flying up to get a better view of their prey because that was what the champions were. They were not the hunters, they were the prey.

The champions also sprung into action. Well some of them did, throwing up shields or taking cover. There were a few that stood frozen with fear, or maybe they just didn't hear that it was beginning, or notice that the dragons were moving forward to kill them.

Harry would have paid more attention to the other champion's fighting style, but it seemed that his dragon wanted all his attention. The gigantic Ukrainian Ironbelly approached him ready to end him then and there. It would seem the dragon only wanted lunch, and then maybe a nap. As it approached Harry, it seemed that a boulder had gotten in its way. But no matter, the dragon had easily crushed it with its foot.

Harry blinked.

Avoiding being stepped on was definitely important. He somehow doubted his bones were stronger than a boulder.

Harry backed up, but the problem then became colliding with other champions and their dragons. He already had to deal with Ukrainian Ironbelly, he did not want to add a Romanian Longhorn and a witch wildly slinging out badly aimed spells to the list.

He could get in the way of someone's stunning spell and it would all be over.

Harry threw a simple spell to test the scales of the dragon, and it bounced off. The only sign that the dragon even realized he fired a spell was that it looked down. When it saw that there was not a scratch, the dragon seemed to smile, showing off the razors it had for teeth. It was almost like the dragon was saying, 'when I catch you, these are the teeth I will impale you with'.

The dragon apparently wanted to do the same thing as Harry. It wanted to test just how fragile his meal would be, so it shot a jet of fire at Harry.

Normally when someone shot a spell at him, he would dodge it or cast a shield.

There was no way he would be able to dodge the fire, so that wasn't an option and neither was a shield. Shields were made for protection against spells, so they would be less effective against breaths of fire.

Instead, he conjured a wall of earth that curved at the top, if anything it was more of a semi-sphere than a wall. He didn't need to conjure an entire sphere around him because it would leave him trapped, waste his energy, and if the dragon continued to breathe fire at him, he would be baked alive.

Flames engulfed him on both sides and from above. He knew if he touched the wall he made, it would burn the flesh off his hand. The flames stopped and there was nothing.

Of course, chaos was still raging on around him as other champions battled their dragon. Krum was blinding his Chinese Fireball dragon with the conjunctivitis curse, but it had little effect on the dragon and only made it annoyed. Then there was Holden. His brother was on a broom, being chased by a Hungarian Horntail. There was also Diggory's dragon who seemed to be chasing a dog that was transfigured from rocks. And maybe their strategy would have worked if the task was to retrieve the egg only.

That would have been easier.

But it wasn't the task. They, mere students, would have to _take down_ dragons, a job that was given to professionals who trained for most of their lives and still got hurt.

When he waited long enough, he realized what his dragon was doing.

With all his strength, he forced his legs to run. He ran and ran, one foot in front of another, his shoes slapping the ground with a resounding sound. He kept running and turned around to find that his guess was true.

The dragon didn't like to play hide and seek. It brought its tail around. With an arc motion, it swiped its tail across the ground and smashed his makeshift wall aside.

The ironbelly looked at its tail and then at where the wall used to be, looking for the dead body of a wizard boy. Then the dragon looked up and realized his prey had miraculously survived. When Harry stepped away, only sweating from the heat, the dragon seemed to have been impressed. Too bad that would not stop it from eating Harry.

Drawing this out would not help. If he accidentally got caught, then it would be over, he needed to impose his plan. He looked around and found what he was looking for. His sprint curved to the left as he approached another dragon. This one had fiery breath as well, but it also exerted a lot more smoke than others. And that was what Harry need.

His dragon prepared to attack again, but he was still too far from the smoke. Only a few more steps.

 _"Lumos Maxima."_

He silently thanked the gods and Hermione.

The light emerged from the tip of his wand and shot off into the sky. It was enough to blind and distract the dragon as well as anyone close enough. Even Harry was temporarily blinded, but he didn't need to see. He knew what he was doing.

As he ran into the smoke he cast a smokescreen spell to add towards it. The smoke drifted outwards as Harry's dragon realized the diversion. The ironbelly entered the smoke, clearly annoyed. As it approached, the smoke started to engulf the dragon as well.

This blocked the view of the audience, dragon and anyone outside of the smoke.

And then he flew. The levitation charm guiding him upward.

As the smoke began to disperse, the Ukrainian Ironbelly once again looked for him. Then the dragon shifted itself and realized what the extra weight on its back was. It turned its head around and Harry came face to face with the dragon's deep red eyes.

Even though the dragon's head could reach its neck, Harry wasn't afraid. The dragon would not try to breathe fire on or eat Harry while he was on its back. It wouldn't risk harm to itself, or at least that was what Harry hoped.

With its massive legs, the dragon crouched and then shot up as it took flight. Harry barely had time to grab onto the spines that lined the dragon's back. He shoved his wand into his belt and one hand at a time, he positioned himself properly so he was at a lower risk of falling off and dying. Harry was glad that he didn't have sweaty hands or else this would have been much more difficult. The massive wings flapped and flapped, raising them to a higher and higher altitude. He was also glad he wasn't afraid of heights. Fainting and falling wouldn't have been helpful.

The dragon's size was once again useful. Due to its larger body build, the ironbelly was less agile and nimble. Which meant it was easier to ride and that it wasn't able to perform quick spins to knock Harry off.

Coincidentally enough, behind him, Harry saw his brother who was still flying on a broom and being chased by a dragon. He had to wonder if his brother had a plan, or if it was trying to outfly a dragon on a broom, which would be a horrible plan.

As his brother passed by, Harry figured he would help his brother out and screamed, "There is a missing scale under its arm."

That was about all he could say before his brother and his brother's dragon sped by since they were both smaller and faster than Harry's dragon. He wondered if his brother had even heard him.

Harry waited. As his dragon was flying, Harry was not enjoying the scenery or asking himself the purpose of life. He was waiting. The dragon seemed to be waiting as well as it flew higher. Waiting for Harry to chicken out and jump off, or to maybe just explode from fear altogether.

Luckily Harry was not waiting for the same thing. He was waiting for an opportunity to come and when it did, he acted. He needed the dragon to fly higher, high enough that if it were to fall, that the force of impact would be enough to knock the dragon out or to injury beyond fighting. It was a cruel thing to do, but he was a cruel person when he had to be. He pulled his wand out and cast the spell.

 _"Ferrum sphaeram."_

The spell was an uncommon one, but one of Harry's favourite. It was taught to him by his dark arts teacher Professor Kamen, not that it was dark magic.

Wizards and witches often fought at a distance, shooting spells to take one another down. But as fights escalated, sometimes the distance became shorter and long-range spells or spells with a large area of effect would be less effective. That was when this spell came in handy.

In Latin, ferrum roughly translated to sword or blade, while sphaeram roughly translated to aura. Which meant when the spell was cast, the wand would glow. The handle of the sword would remain as the wand, but an aura-like blade would extend from the tip.

Harry held the sword tightly in his hand and plunged it into both of the wings of the dragon.

He would have simply set the wings on fire, but he was pretty sure that dragons were fireproof.

The screech that the ironbelly emitted was ghastly and unpleasant as the beast began to tip downwards. Clearly, the dragon had a little too much hubris, underestimating the rider, or rather the rider's sanity. If the rider was perhaps someone who was less insane, they would never injure the creature that was stopping them from spilling their internal organs on the ground.

He pulled the sword out as the blade of the sword dissipated. The blood was everywhere, soaking him through his clothes, but Harry wasn't very interested in how he looked. Right now he needed to land without dying.

The levitation charm was never meant to make you fly or suspend you while falling, and he wasn't about to test it out to see if it worked.

The wind was rushing past him as he continued to fall with his dragon. The wind was in his eye, but he could see the audience's eyes glued on him. Even some of the other champions and dragons had stopped to watch their descent.

He was falling too fast. He needed to slow down and the dragon's weight was doing little to help.

Harry stood up and jumped. It was the only way.

The Ukrainian Ironbelly continued to violently flap its wings, trying to stop its fall, but it was too late. His body mass was simply too much for his injured wings to support. Slowly the distance between Harry and his dragon increased.

His dragon would hit the dirt first and he would follow soon after.

Harry then pointed his wand at the ground and hoped it would be enough.

 _"Molliare."_

He braced for impact, making sure he wasn't falling head first.

The dragon made impact with the ground and a wave of dust and dirt scattered through the stadium. Harry closed his eyes, both to protect his eyes from the dust and well if he going to die, he would rather not see it.

He landed, but not on the hard ground, or with a crunching sound of bones snapping apart or dislocating. The cushioning charm had done its job. He was not dead and the egg that he had snatched from the dragon's back was intact.

The dust settled.

It seemed he was the first one to complete the task. And in that moment people did not care that he was Harry Potter, a cursed child, possibly the next dark wizard. None of that mattered. They only saw him as Harry Potter and nothing more.

The crowd cheered for him.

* * *

 **Things are going to start speeding up, so thank you to everyone who has stuck with the story.**

 **Until next time.**

 **-Pyrrhical**


	10. Safety

"Victory always comes at a cost."

-Darrow Starkov

* * *

Harry walked into the atrium, careful of his left arm. It had been three days since the first task and it seemed that Harry had sprained his wrist during it. All the adrenaline that was flowing in his veins must have absorbed the pain. It was not until after he had been taken out from the arena victoriously carrying his golden egg that he noticed the pain.

Other than that, he emerged mostly unharmed, but it seemed that was not the case for everyone. Many of the other champions had to visit the hospital ward to treat their burns or to have dragon teeth pulled out from their backs. It was not a pretty site and needless to say, the hospital ward was very busy.

Still, Harry had bigger problems than just his wrist.

Shortly after the first task, he had seen the front page of the Daily Prophet and it was not singing praises in his name.

 _ **The Dark Lord is Back?**_

 _You-know-who was defeated by Holden Potter who was at the time a mere infant. Without their leader, death eaters fled, went into hiding or were captured. The world once again safe._

 _Or so it seems._

 _After the attack at Godric Hallows Holden Potter, the boy-who-lived, came out of it all with a scar that would forever mark the death of his mother and the disappearance of his brother. Then nine years later, Harry Potter was mysteriously found by James Potter, Albus Dumbledore and Kingsley Shacklebolt. Everything was kept under wraps and Harry Potter never made a public appearance or gave the world the explanation that it so desperately craved. Instead, the old and senile Hogwarts Headmaster Dumbledore simply told the public and the ministry, it had been a miracle that Harry Potter was rescued, only sustaining a head injury in the process._

 _Now after being hidden away for years, Harry Potter has been thrust into the spotlight once more after he was selected as a champion in the Triwizard Tournament. The world watched cautiously and during the first task, he showed his colours. Far more powerful than any of the other champions, he was the first one to defeat his dragon by viciously cutting off the poor dragon's wings and driving the beast six feet under into the ground._

 _A teen being able to take down a dragon with such ruthlessness and efficiency. How long before he sets his site on taking down something else or someone else? Will he first start with his brother first, the boy who caused the downfall of the previous dark wizard? And when the time comes, will the Ministry of Magic even stand a chance? How long before Harry Potter rallies his hidden armies of death eaters and wrecks havoc in the wizarding world, creating fear and chaos._

 _Listen to this warning because it may be the only one you will get. Beware of Harry Potter._

And along with the article was a picture of Harry soaked in blood. Not his own, but the blood of his dragon's blood.

Harry sighed.

Even he had to admit he looked slightly deranged in the photo. That would be understating it. He looked like a killer. This was definitely Rita Skeeter getting back at him for ruining her interview with his brother. If you couldn't go after one Potter, go after the other one.

This was definitely Rita Skeeter trying to get back at him for ruining her interview with his brother. If you couldn't go after one Potter, go after the other one.

It seemed it had worked.

The same crowd that had cheered when he won now looked at him like he had slaughtered the dragon like he had enjoyed it, as if it wasn't part of the task. People were more scared of him than ever, not that he would ever allow anyone to notice how it bothered him.

Seeing him enter Adrik walked over from the banner he had been talking to someone under.

"I never get sick of seeing it." His best friend said, gesturing at the banner.

"I do," Harry said.

After the first task, the ministry seemed to have decided to add another banner in the atrium to display the ranking. He had been the first one to take down his dragon and he had done it with "style", as Adrik called it. So Harry's name which was written in gold was granted the honour of being at the very top of the silk blue banner.

Normally he would have kept his head low and waited for the champions to tire each other out so it would be easy picking for him, but not this time. Everyone already had their eyes on him, watching his every step. So staying in the shadows wouldn't work. Someone had it out for him, or else why would he be a champion when he didn't even enter. There was already a target on his back, so his goal was to make the shooter too afraid to fire.

"What happened to Latisha Randle?" Harry asked, coughing.

Harry remembered seeing the girl at the beginning of the first task, and he had noticed her name at the bottom of the ranking. But today her name was silver amid the gold writing and it was crossed out.

"Randle? Oh, she wasn't as lucky with the first task. She got paired with a Peruvian Vipertooth. Nasty little shits with a particular craving for human flesh. Her dragon was able to tear off both her legs before the officials were able to retrieve her. She's stuck in a coma from the blood loss right now. So she's been automatically withdrawn from the tournament. The ministry wouldn't have very good press if they push a legless unconscious girl into the second task."

Harry nodded. During his time in the hospital ward, he had heard something about that but he wasn't sure who. "On the good side, there's one less person to worry about. We should be celebrating," Adrik said in a tone that was much too cheery.

"And I wonder why people call you a sociopath." Kirsten dropped down in a seat with the two boys.

Harry's best friend only rolled his eyes. "Then I suppose all optimists are sociopaths."

Kirsten ignored him. "Anyways, Adrik has a point. We _should_ celebrate."

Adrik and Harry both looked at each other, then raised an eyebrow at her.

"No! Not celebrate that she lost her legs and is now out of the tournament." Kirsten shouted, horrified they would even assume she meant that. "We should celebrate Harry being first. How about tonight?"

"I can't. I have plans with Holden and Hermione."

"I knew they say twins are inseparable, but this is ridiculous. You might as well bring some flowers for Holden. Where are you guys even doing? It's so late already."

"Just doing some research for the task."

"You haven't gotten the golden egg to open without making that god awful sound? Well good luck, but I'm not sure a library is the best place to experiment with that thing. So what about you Adrik, are you busy?"

"As much fun as it would be to have a two-person party with you Kirsten, I have other plans tonight too. Some of us have this thing called 'a date'. Maybe you should get one." Adrik snorted when Kirsten sent him a death stare.

"And who is your poor victim this time?"

"The _lucky girl_ is Ingrid."

Kirsten made a groaning sound.

"What?" Adrik asked, looking at Harry.

"Nothing. It's just that if you're not interested in her, you should stop toying with her."

"But she has such perky-"

"Stop!" Kirsten interrupted him, "We don't want to know."

"Personality. I was just talking about her perky personality." Adrik winked, and it was enough to drive off his two friends.

* * *

It was late when Harry made his way to the library. They had decided it was best to experiment with the egg in a place where they could research and at the same time had as few people as possible.

Which meant the library at night because who else would be there.

The halls were quiet and empty, no one staring fearfully at him as he walked by. Harry often found that he loved the dark and isolation the most because it was peaceful and so rarely in his life were things peaceful.

" _Protego._ "

The yellow stunning spell bounced away an inch from his face, but it would do nothing against the footsteps that were coming at him. Four pairs of footsteps to be exact.

Harry conjured a ring of fire around him, startling his assailants and knocking one on his back.

It seemed none of them knew the spell to create a gap in the firestorm or was smart enough to attack him from above where he was vulnerable, but this was not a long-term solution. Harry couldn't keep it up forever. He knew the fire around him was keeping his enemies at bay, but it was also draining his strength bit by bit.

It was the middle of the night which meant that there would be no one coming to his rescue. It was pointless to wait, better to get it over with.

He lowered his wand, waiting.

The fire slowly vanished and he was face to face with his attackers. His attackers hadn't expected him to fight, so Harry was able to disarm one and stun another.

But a body came tumbling into his from behind, knocking him flat on the floor. He was lucky that the impact didn't knock him unconscious, but maybe he would have to live with a concussion if he survived this.

He felt fists coming down at him until the air was knocked out of his lungs and he could barely breathe. His mind was no longer thinking, reverting to a flight or fight response. In this case, mostly flight. He struggled, but it was no use. There was strength in numbers.

When his body was bruised and battered that he could no longer put up a fight, they stopped and restrained him against the cold floor, not that he could do much. A pair of hands then went to his mouth, trying to pry his jaw opened.

"Fuck! He bit my fingers."

"Stop whining and hurry up."

Slowly his mouth was forced open and the touch of cold glass graced his lips.

A vial.

He tried to spit it out, but it was no use. They covered his mouth and pinched his nose shut. When he finally couldn't hold his breath any longer, he swallowed whatever the liquid was. Bitter and harsh against his throat, but he thought little of it as he gasped for air.

A foot came down on his left knee and he screamed, but his pain would not be heard. He was barely awake at this point, but his eyes could register a face coming up to his.

The leader.

It took his eyes a moment to adjust before he saw the mask being removed. They all wore masks. And the face that was underneath it was the face of a stranger. A boy, but that was about it.

"You don't recognize me do you?" Harry said nothing, but it seemed the stranger didn't care much for an answer. "Maybe you recognize my sister then. Latisha Randle? She's in the infirmary right now, and you will soon be there too. But I'm hoping you will die before then. You know my sister lost both her legs because of you and you still get to walk around as first place in the tournament?"

The boy laughed in Harry's face.

"But not for long because I plan to make sure you never walk for the rest of your life."

Harry braced himself as the boy raise his foot, ready to break his other leg.

A scream, but not his own. Whoever was holding down his hand collapsed.

"What the hell-"

Harry took this distraction as an opportunity. He grabbed his wand that had fallen nearby and stabbed the person who was holding down his other hand.

" _Flipendo_." It seemed the wand being buried in someone's shoulder didn't affect the spell. The body was knocked back into a wall before collapsing into a mess. Harry then pointed his wand at the last attacker who was already shot in the back and crumbled at Harry's feet.

He was exhausted and thanked whatever god that had bothered to send him assistance.

Harry heard the footsteps of whoever had helped him and before long, his rescuer was at his side.

"Oh shit, I need to take you to the hospital ward. Where the fuck is the hospital ward?"

"No." he croaked, his voice barely sounding like his own.

"No? What do you mean no?"

"Can I trust you?"

The boy that had saved his life paused at his question. He closed his eyes as if considering whether to walk away now and get a teacher or agree to whatever insane thing he had accidentally walked into. He took a breath and then opened his eyes. "What do you need?"

"Make it look like there was a fight and we were never here."

"You better tell me what the hell happened when this is over," was all the boy said before he started.

He moved quickly and quietly. Taking off the masks, positioning the bodies, even leaving a few bruises to cover up any spells. It looked like the aftermath of a fist fight, no trace of what really happened.

Harry had to admit that he was glad this boy had stumbled across him and not some dimwit.

"Done... You aren't planning on going to the hospital, are you?

"My room."

His saviour swore. "Fine, it's your deathbed."

"After, go get a teacher and tell them about the _fight_ that happened in the halls."

The only sound of an agreement was a grunt.

Then Harry felt an arm hoisting him up and dragging him away. Despite Harry being a dead weight, they were moving quite fast, but they didn't get too far.

"Hermione?"

Harry could barely see right now. His vision was a blur and the lighting in the halls wasn't helping, but he recognized the silhouette. In all the commotion he had forgotten that he was supposed to meet Hermione and his brother. That they were waiting for him to show up when he was attacked in the halls not too far from the library.

"Harry! What did you do to him, Smith?"

Her wand was up in a flash, aimed at the boy who was carrying Harry. The boy's knuckles were still bloody from staging the fight and it only made him look more guilty considering he was carrying Harry who looked like he was pummeled.

"Granger put the fucking wand down and help me drag him to his room. I don't really want him dying in my arms right now."

Harry couldn't see if Hermione listened or not, but he soon felt another pair of arms begrudgingly help drag him.

With the help of Hermione, it wasn't long before they came crashing through the door to his dorm. He had never been gladder that there were only three other people who shared the Dark Arts dorm with him. Three of whom were sound asleep hopefully.

It wasn't until Harry was laid down on his bed and the door was closed behind them that they spoke a word.

"What happened?"

"He was bea-"

"I fell," Harry said, cutting the boy off. "I fell down the stairs when I was going to the library, and he found me."

"And then you pointed your wand at me, ready to blow my head off."

Hermione looked doubtfully at the two of them. "Why didn't you go to the hospital?"

"Even nurses need to sleep." The boy snapped at her, trying to distract her from asking too many questions.

It seemed like it worked, anger or mild irritation for the boy suppressing her logic.

"Just try not to kill him." Hermione snapped back, as they began casting healing spells and doing what they could to treat the injuries, including some muggle techniques.

Harry could sense the animosity that existed between them, but he had to admit they worked well in tandem. It was almost like they were thinking the same thing, so they worked silently and efficiently. When they finished, Harry looked better than he felt, but it was still an improvement from the brink of death.

"I'm going to go to the potions class to see if I can raid it for something to help." the boy said, looking Harry in the eye.

Hermione showed no sign of hearing a word he said, or that he even existed. Harry could only offer a weak nod.

"Who is he?" Harry asked the moment the door closed behind the boy.

"Trouble," she muttered under her breath.

He couldn't help but smile, even though it hurt everything. So his guess was right, they did know each other.

Hermione sighed. "Zacharias Smith, a Hufflepuff in our year."

"Hmm, I would have pegged him as a Ravenclaw."

"Aside from being a snob, I can't imagine him as a Ravenclaw. I doubt he even has a brain in that head of his, only a big mouth."

Harry raised an eyebrow, the one that wasn't above the black eye.

"He is renowned for his gossip, which is _always_ true. All the secrets and whispers, he somehow knows them all. Like he has ears on the wall. And that's what people assume, that he is just good at eavesdropping. But he knows a lot, far more than someone who just eavesdrops. Some people even call him psychic which is ridiculous. The worse part is that he doesn't bother to keep it to himself. He just finds it entertaining to create drama."

"Where's Holden?" Harry asked, figuring Hermione couldn't stand talking about Zacharias Smith any longer.

Hermione frowned. "Holden and Ronald got into a fight with Malfoy, so they all have detention.

"What's their deal with Malfoy?"

"Long story short, Holden rejected Malfoy's handshake of friendship and ever since Malfoy has had a grudge."

Harry made a mental note of that. It would make sense. Holden had defeated Voldemort and Draco was the son of a notorious death eater.

"Get some sleep, Harry. Magic can fix a lot of things, but it will never be able to beat nature. Your body needs rest."

"Thank you, Hermione."

He didn't need to be told twice. It seemed his body was barely holding on to consciousness. Sleep engulfed him the moment he closed his eyes.


	11. Confrontations

"The closest allies often hides behind the most unlikely of faces."

-Darrow Starkov

* * *

Harry slept peacefully. No nightmares to haunt him, and no dreams to taunt him. Just the endless void of unconsciousness, the peaceful kind anyways.

He woke up the next day to Hermione's voice.

"I'm going to be late to class." She just about yelled. Jumping out of the chair at Harry's bedside, she made a break for the door all while rambling on a list of rules he was to follow. She was out of his room before the chair she was sitting on could fall to the floor.

Harry did not think he would ever meet anyone who cared more about school than Hermione.

Her rules consisted mostly of staying in bed, resting, no moving and so on. In other words, pretend to be catatonic and not get into any more trouble. Surprisingly enough, he did end up following them despite being a notorious rule breaker. He remained a good boy, staying put in absolute boredom... or at least he did until his limbs could not stand the feeling of being in bed. It was a struggle at first, but he had managed to gather all the upper body strength he had to sit up. And that was all he could achieve before there was a knock on the door.

Before he could answer or even think of who was on the other side, the door opened and in walked Zacharias Smith. The blond boy stopped, firmly locked the door behind him and proceeded to pick up the chair where Hemione was a few hours ago, before sitting in it.

He was not sure what Smith wanted, but Harry was not about to find out unprepared. Call it paranoia if you would, but he had just been ambushed and his trust was at an all-time low. Without moving his eyes from the Hogwarts student, his hand slowly searched for his wand under the blankets.

His movements were subtle, yet Smith seemed to catch on. "I'm not here to hurt you." he raised his hands as if to surrender. "I just want to talk. A heart-to-heart, if you will."

"Bad habit." He shrugged, releasing his wand, but keeping it close and ready.

Smith moved on, smiling like nothing had happened. Even Harry had to admit it was a bit unnerving. "I came bearing gifts," Smith said, handing him some red liquid in a vial. "It will help speed up your healing. Finished brewing it this morning."

Harry gulped it down and tasted the familiar bitterness of a healing potion. He had figured if Smith really wanted him dead, Harry would still be laying bloodied and beaten in the hallway. Nothing like an apparent act of trust, to lower defences.

Still, it was not smart to appear naive. "Nothing in life is truly a gift."

Smith's smile seemed to grow wider, almost like a parent watching their child is a school play.

The boy did not want him dead. He wanted information from Harry.

The blond gave a short applause for his deduction. "Well said. I have a proposition for you."

"I'm sure it is an interesting one."

"What would be the point if it wasn't? An alliance of sorts, your information for my information. You let me be your confidant and I provide you with my skills of expertise, which I'm sure Granger has no doubt complained to you about."

"I already have a guy who catches the wind of things."

"Adrik Weston. Born in America. Parents divorced. Lived with his American mother for a while before being expelled from Ilvermorny. Then he lived with his Russian father and began attending school here, where he became best friends with Harry Potter and Kirsten Abram. Never studies and barely passes any of his classes." The words came out as if they were inscribed on the back of his hand and he was only repeating them for the hundredth time in a row. "I'm sure he can inform you all about the happenings in Durmstrang, but you would be blind to everything in Hogwarts. And what if I told you I know just as much about Beauxbatons as Hogwarts."

Harry had to admit he was impressed, not that he would say it aloud or show it on his face. "What's in it for you?"

"I'd like to believe what they say, that the world is in a _Golden Age of Peace_ with Voldemort gone. But peace is a fragile thing. There are whispers, that Voldemort will come back or that you will become the next dark wizard. I can't control the future, but I would rather be prepared if chaos breaks loose. All I ask is that my sister will be safe through it all."

"Just your sister?"

"Well I hope I will live through it too, but yes, just my sister."

Harry had to wonder about Smith's parents and family. Or perhaps he was an orphan. Perhaps he, like Harry, had very few people who he cared for. "Fair enough."

The two boys shook hands.

"So you said you came bearing gifts. I assume you have more than just a potion."

Smith grinned like he had just picked the correct numbers to the lottery. "Down to business, I like it. As much as I want you to feel better, I figured you would be bored to death."

He reached into his robes and procured four wands. "I snatched these off your attackers last night before, I had to drag your ass here. Figured it could be used as leverage," he shrugged. "Or for revenge."

"I don't need revenge yet, just answers."

Smith nodded, then pulled out another vial. This one was different from the one he had first given Harry. "I also found this last night. Any clue what was in it?"

Harry could have said nothing, but Zacharias had earned it. He looked at the milky white drops that remained in the vial as he spoke. "They forced whatever was in that vial down my throat last night."

"Some type of poison?"

"I doubt they tried to beat me up so they could drink butterbeer with me."

Smith swirled the remnants of the poison. "I might be able to reverse engineer it if there's enough left. Might take me a while though."

"Well if they were trying to kill me quickly, they would have chosen a faster-acting poison. I should be safe for now, but don't wait until I die to find the..."

"What?"

"Someone's coming."

"Your roommate?"

"No."

Smith grabbed the vial, hiding it in his robes. He shoved the four wands into a clothes drawer nearby, then unlocked the door and opened it all in record time.

Hermione was on the other side looking surprised, her hand that was reaching for the doorknob froze. Her shock did not last very long though and slowly turned to disgust. "Smith? What are you doing here?"

"Visiting Harry of course, what else would I be doing in _Harry's_ room?" He explained as if she was a dimwitted young child lacking common sense.

She wrinkled her nose at him calling Harry by his first name. " _Why_ are you visiting him?"

"I didn't know it was illegal to care about someone. He did almost die in my arms after I saved him from the evil wraith of gravity and the stairs. Not everyone is as antisocial and uncaring as you Granger."

Harry could swear he saw a vein pop out of Hermione's forehead.

"Excuse you, Smith. Some of us have to go to class. We can't just go around failing every subject." Hermione countered.

"Well look at the time. As much as I would love to continue this conversation with you, I have transfiguration class. I better get going before people start saying that I'm failing. And Granger," Smith said stopping after he had walked past Hermione. "It was so much work making sure he didn't die, try not to bore him to death."

He was gone before she could retort anything. If one did not listen carefully, it could have been seen as a petty squabble. But Harry found it was interesting watching them argue. A battle of quick wits and sharp tongues, perhaps between the two smartest people he would ever meet.

Hermione slammed the door hard enough to rattle it off its bolts.

"Can you believe him? How dare he? Harry, you need to stay away from him, as far as possible. He's nothing but trouble."

She went on to describe Zacharias Smith with various personality traits that would have offended him were he here. Irresponsible, egotistic, rude, selfish. All synonyms for asshole, not that Hermione would ever swear.

He wondered what she would do if she found out about the shaky agreement he had with Zacharias.

"Hermione," he cut her off as she was ready to go into another speech about Smith's extremely flawed character. "I have my own judgement. You are just going to have to trust me."

She looked like he had just smacked her across the face after handing back a test that she failed. He had to admit it was quite terrifying.

"Fine," she spat bitterly. "But that does not mean I am going to start trusting him."

Hermione sat on the bed beside him, and her face softened. "How are you feeling?"

"Truthfully, I've been better. How about you, any exams to start studying for?"

"Not funny Harry."

He only shrugged, when a smile graced her lips.

"I came over to check on you, but also for your egg."

Harry was supposed to meet Hermione and Holden at the library the night before to discuss the next tournament task. That was before their plans were rudely interrupted.

"Right. It's over there. Where's my brother."

"I haven't seen him since yesterday. Probably somewhere with Ronald, trying to plan their revenge on Malfoy." She said as she opened a desk drawer.

Harry said nothing as Hermione dug past the papers and whatever Harry had over time dropped in there out of convenience. He was curious to see if she could...

Hermione lifted everything out of the drawer, then proceeded to rip off the faulty wooden walls and find the egg. "A trick drawer?"

"You never know."

She understood. It was his identity. There was always an ever-present danger that would shadow him for the rest of his life. "I figured the egg itself is not the clue, but the sound that it makes."

"So Holden opened it too and found out about the sound." His brother and many of the other champions were able to retrieve an egg. Only two champions failed to do so and would be heading into the next task blind.

"He opened it in the middle of a celebration party. Needless to say, Gryffindors will not be holding a party anytime soon."

Harry winced. He could only imagine how unpleasant it was. He had opened the egg alone in his room, and the noise was loud enough for all of the dark arts students to check out the commotion.

"Anyways, I wanted to see if the eggs were physically the same and emitted the same high-pitched frequency of sound. You wouldn't mind, would you?"

"Not at all. I'm sure broken eardrums will be great for my health and speedy recovery."

"Marvelous." The sound pierced the air, blocking him from wondering if she had heard the sarcasm in his words, or if she just did not care. Despite the bruises and fractures, his hands instinctively shot up to cover his ears.

Not that it helped much.

When it finally stopped, he had to let out a breath of relief. Listening to that sound was almost worse than being beaten up, and he would know.

That was how it was for hours. Both of them examining the egg, checking for symbols, patterns, anything really. They had opened the egg a few more times, deafening both of them temporarily each time.

The other dark arts students had dropped by, each time more irritated than the last. They had tried casting a soundproofing spell, but it seemed to provide little protection against the egg. Eventually, the other students in his dorm decided it would be better to just spend the afternoon _and_ the evening elsewhere.

Because that was how long they had been at it. Hours of trying everything they could think of. Any method or strategy they could squeeze out of their very much drained imagination. Yet they had nothing to show for their efforts. The egg remained the same as it had been, golden and shrieky.

The only thing they did find out was that the egg was made of something almost indestructible, something they discovered _after_ Harry had blasted it out of frustration. This also meant that Hermione's hypothesis was correct. Whatever the clue was, it came from the sound and not the egg itself.

By now, Harry and Hermione had switched seats. Hermione was sitting cross-legged on his bed, holding the egg like she was yearning to make an omelette out of it. Harry, on the other hand, was sprawled out on the chair nearby. He was staring at the ceiling prattling off ideas, which Hermione would then state the flaws of. After a few tries, they would switch roles. Hermione would then list things they could try, which Harry would then reject.

He doubted any of the ideas _he_ named would work. He was intelligent, but not in the way Hermione was. He was more strategically smart, rather than informationally smart.

"I don't think we are going to solve it tonight," he yawned, ready to have given up an hour ago. Hermione's company was perhaps the only thing that made it bearable.

Unfortunately, Hermione was more stubborn than he would have guessed. "You can sleep. I just have a few more ideas," she said making space for him on the bed.

Harry coughed. "Maybe you should go back to your dorm. It's pretty late and..."

She raised a quizzical eyebrow at him, not understanding what he was implying.

He sighed. "So that no one thinks that we are-"

"Goodnight Harry," she shot up from her seat and left, placing the egg on his desk. If she had been any slower, Harry might have been able to see the blush that was rising to her face.

* * *

Harry was actually not tired.

He did not know what Zacharias had given him, but the potion did the trick. Despite probably having more broken bones than fingers and toes combined, he felt fine. Weaker than usual, but fine overall.

Shortly after Hermione had left his room, he did too. He could have stayed up all night working on the egg with her, but he had more urgent matters to attend.

The cold embraced him when he stepped into the halls, a ghost of a smile on his lips. Empty and silent. There was no better place to be. Nothing, not the warmth of friends or the accomplishment of victory could rival the peace of being alone.

A part of him did wonder if he was going to be attacked again. Perhaps another group of students would come after him tonight, or the night after, but he could not hide forever. He needed answers, and that was exactly what he was going to get.

Harry turned the corner and quietly opened the doors to the hospital ward.

All of the patients were asleep in their cot by now or unconscious from their injuries. As for the staff, there was only one nurse on night duty ready to respond to any medical emergencies. Judging by the way she was slumped in her seat and the steady breathing that came from her, she like her patients were asleep.

He had never seen her before, not that he frequented the hospital often. Probably a last-minute rookie who was brought in as an extra pair of hands for the tournament.

Harry walked along the hospital beds, twirling a wand in his hand until he stopped at one. He drew the curtains together and then used the soundproofing charm to create a barrier, both to block sound from coming in and going out.

"Wake up," Harry said sharply.

The patient who laid on the bed snapped awake. His eyes glazed, but wild, trying to adjust to reality.

"Potter," the boy snarled.

Harry grinned smugly and sat down on the nearby wooden chair. He leaned back, displaying every ounce of calm he could muster. He needed to show that the attack had been nothing more than a minor inconvenience that he had come out of it in better shape than anyone else. He needed to appear unbreakable to his enemies, so they were too distracted to see the cracks.

"I figured I would visit you in the hospital, considering I'm the reason you are here. Although, in my defence, you did attack me first."

"Fuck you," the boy lunged at him, but Harry remained in his seat unflinching. After years of attending Durmstrang, he learned a few things. One of them being the protective barrier that could be activated around hospital beds. Harry had seen Adrik get into enough fights to know that the hospital beds also had the ability to detain their patients.

The boy swore as the invisible barrier flashed into view and a small electric shock was delivered, falling back on the bed. Clearly, he had not known or had forgotten it in the moment of rage. Regardless, it was satisfying to watch.

"Why did you attack me, Kane?" Harry had taken a glimpse at the hospital record sheets as he walked by the sleeping nurse.

Kane Randle was a student of Hogwarts and the younger brother of Latisha Randle, the Triwizard champion who had been hurt in the first task. He was a boy with brown hair and hazel eyes, someone Harry wouldn't have looked twice at if they passed in the halls.

"Because you are the fucking reason my sister will never walk again. I told her not to enter the tournament. I told her how dangerous it was, but she wouldn't listen. You might have been the first person to win the task, but everyone else was still trying to fight their own dragon. And you know what Potter? It's pretty distracting when you and your fucking dragon fall from the sky. So yeah, when I got the chance, I didn't hesitate to attack you."

So it had been an act of revenge on his part, yet it was too careful to have been just a moment of anger.

"Who were the others?"

Now Kane was silent.

The hate still burned in his eyes, but slightly choked out. Harry knew he stumbled upon something.

The hospital beds were interesting. The protective barrier, if activated, would stop the patient from moving beyond the permitted area. Yet the barrier had no restrictions against anyone else.

He moved in a blink of the eye. His body rushing forward.

Kane screamed as the wand once in Harry's hand punctured his own hand.

"Someone help! Please!" The boy screamed, holding up his crippled hand. He was caught between leaving the wand as it was or pulling it out. Both options ensured a lot of pain and blood.

Harry watched Kane struggle and scream, begging to anyone and everyone who could hear his cries. But no one would hear him. No one would come to his aid. Harry watched the helplessness that filled the boy and wondered if it mirrored his own when he was attacked the night before.

"Kane," he said with frightening calmness. "I brought your wand here as a sign of goodwill. Now tell me what I want to know."

"I-I don't know who the others are. I got a package yesterday. It was a mask with a note that said if I wanted to get revenge, I would be in that hall at night. When I got there, there were already three other people, all wearing the same mask. We, we were just going to beat you up. To teach you a lesson, but then one of them had a vial-"

"What was in the vial?" Harry asked abruptly, cutting off the boy.

"I don't know. A guy pulled it out and in the heat of the moment, I didn't bother with it."

"That note, do you have it?"

Kane searched his pockets, pulling out a crumpled sheet of parchment. It was ripped but confirmed what the boy said.

"Hold still," was all the warning he gave before pulling the wand out of his hand.

The boy's scream slowly faded as Harry cast a quick healing spell for the wound. Then he tossed the boy a bandage roll and took down the sound barrier, as well as erasing any evidence of his visit.

"Stay away from me," Harry warned him, then turned to leave.

"That's it?" Kane asked

"That's it." As he approached the curtains that enclosed them, Harry stopped. His voice was low, a mix between a mumble and a whisper, "Kane. Your sister is a strong person. She will get through it."

The words that came out from the boy was a strained hiss, catching Harry off guard. It had enough emotion and truth to knock down walls. "No, she won't. The magical contract she agreed to when she became a champion binds her. She is obliged to see the tournament through to the end, which means competing even in her current state." The boy continued even through the tears that came streaming down. "How do you think she will do in the next task while in a coma without her legs? Even if she does miraculously survive, what about the task after that? If you think I will still have a sister left after this tournament, then you are a fool, Harry Potter."

"I didn't tell or force your sister to enter the tournament. But I am sorry for what happened to her."

* * *

 **I would like to thank you guys for your encouragement and critique. Know that I do read them and make changes as necessary or try to clear up any misunderstandings in later chapters.**

 **-Pyrrhical**


	12. Discoveries

"Yet the same could be said about the most dangerous of enemies."

-Darrow Starkov

* * *

Geoffrey Hooper and Jean Millefeuille.

After having a chat with Kane Randle, Harry had more or less interrogated his other attackers in the same manner. Their beds were all conveniently placed side by side in the hospital. Less work for Harry.

It seemed fear was a very effective tool for coaxing out the truth. It took few threats and maybe some additional bruises, but eventually, the other two gave up their silence. While Kane had attacked Harry out of misled vengeance, looking for someone to blame for what happened to his sister, the other two attacked out of fear.

How ironic that the very thing that assisted him, was same the reason he was hurt in the first place.

The other two attackers feared Harry, the supposed next dark wizard. Both, as he later found out, had close relations with family members who were killed by one dark wizard or another, which meant their tolerance for Harry was far less than most people. Not that other people had much tolerance for him in the first place. Their fear and hatred instilled in them as a child was enough to blind them. And that made people do reckless things. Things they would look back on one day and regret. But that shame came after the act, much too late to stop before.

Harry cared little for their reasons. He knew that his life would always be in danger because of his identity alone. It was something he had accepted the day he had been rescued from the inside of that cave. Hooper and Millefeuille were only two examples of hundreds or thousands, if not more.

However, interrogating them had confirmed two suspicions he held.

The first being that just because people did not blatantly attack him in the halls, it did not mean they would not attack him given the chance. The second being that neither Hooper nor Millefeuille was the one who had organized the attack. They had been mere pawns given the chance to serve another's purpose.

It was only when he checked the hospital logs once more did he notice only three of them had been checked in for being in a supposed hallways fight.

Yet, that night that would be vivid in his mind for the rest of his life, and he would remember there were _four_ attackers.

Four people who hated him with such ferocity that they were willing to harm another life. They were willing to take a life away. And perhaps they would have killed him that night, was he not saved. Perhaps that would have been the day Harry Potter died. Alone and beaten, attacked in the dead of night. His mangled and broken body, finally reflecting his soul, would be left there or displayed for all to see. An evil vanquished. No one would say it out loud, to not disrespect the dead, but everyone would be more at ease that he was gone. Would anyone even care who did it?

 _Breathe._

His fists simultaneously unclenching. He wouldn't deny that after the incident, he had needed to take a few more deep breaths than usual. He needed to remain calm if he was ever to solve this mystery.

 _Breathe._

None of the three knew who the last attacker was, or anything about the potion.

A dead end. Regardless, it was a dead end that Harry had told Smith to look into. Maybe the boy would be able to hear something from whatever chain of network he got information from.

Then there was the matter of Kane Randle's sister. Harry felt no guilt for what happened to Latisha Randle. As champions, they knew what they were getting into when they entered the tournament. They knew there was the possibility of permanent injury or death hanging over them once their names were picked. But to enter the next task as a coma patient? Forget the fact that she lost her legs, no one deserved to be treated so inhumanly.

He had spent most of his free time looking into the binding magical contract for the tournament and had only been able to get through a quarter of the endless ancient regulation scrolls. Still, all contracts and rules had loopholes. He had gotten an idea, but he was not sure if it would work and the second task was fast approaching.

"So? Which one is it?"

He looked up at Kirsten, not having listened enough to know what she was asking about. "Your choice," he muttered. Most of the time it worked, whoever speaking to him being too caught up in their own words.

Apparently, not this time.

"My choice? Harry, I just asked you if you and your brother were identical or fraternal twins. I don't think I really have the choice of choosing one over the other." She paused, stating the obvious, "You weren't listening to a single word I was saying."

Harry sighed. Recently he found that his thoughts occupied more of his attention than anything else in life. "Holden and I are identical twins," he answered curtly.

"But your eyes aren't the same colour. I thought identical twins would be more, I don't know...identical?"

Harry shrugged. "When we were younger, we were exactly identical. Exact replicas of each other. Even our parents couldn't tell us apart, but as we grew older, well it could have been a number of different reasons. As identical twins, our DNA is the same, but as our cells multiplied, a mutation could have occurred in one of our DNA. Or it could have been the way our genetic markers read our genes. So,"

By now Kirsten gave him a face that simply said, _W_ _hat did you just say to me?_

Sometimes he forgot that even though Kirsten was a half-blood, she wasn't too in tune with her muggle side. Which also meant she, like many other wizards and witches, leaned more towards magic and tradition than science and innovation.

After all, Harry thought as he looked around the halls, they were still using torches instead of lightbulbs.

"In short, identical twins don't always look the same. It's just not often."

"Good enough of an explanation for me," she said clapping once, clearly done with the topic. "Anyways, the Yule Ball is coming up after the second task. Who do you plan on taking? Julie?"

Harry faltered for a moment, then answered, "Julie is a nice girl. But, uh, she's not really _my_ type."

Kirsten burst out laughing, loud enough for everyone around them to spare them a glance. "Don't flatter yourself. As if Julie would ever go out with..."

She stopped when she noticed Harry raising an eyebrow at her. He was by no means offended, but his interest was piqued.

"Oh Harry, it's nothing against you personally. You are a great guy. Just that not all girls are into the brooding, quiet guys."

"And here I was thinking that my mysterious and dark persona was attracting a group of admirers," he said deadpanned.

Kirsten laughed again.

Harry had been focused on his thoughts recently, not that it was strange considering the amount of mystery surrounding his life. But one thing he did notice was an uplift in Kirsten's attitude. It was the small things. The way she seemed to smile a little more, or the way she bounced even as she headed to her least favourite subject. She seemed light as a feather, as radiant as when he had first met her. It was the same attitude which had pushed aside any prejudice she had about him when they first met and allowed for the two of them to become quick friends. It was like she was living in a better time...

"How is your brother?" Harry asked, aware of the risk. He knew that her brother had always been a precarious topic for her ever since the accident that left him in a vegetative state.

Kirsten did not burst into tears at him mentioning her brother, which was a good sign he guessed. There was a struggle of emotion that flashed across her face for a moment, and then she smiled.

"He's going to be alright," her voice thick with relief. "He's going to survive. The medics say the recovery period will be long, but they say this time next year he will be back to his old self. He should wake from his coma any day now."

"That's brilliant." Sometimes it was hard for Harry to remember that miracles did exist in a world as dark as theirs. Or maybe they did exist for everyone other than himself.

"I'm just glad that he will be alright again, the house has been quiet since mom died. And when the medics told us the news, my dad's look of joy," she sounded like she was on the verge of tears. "For the longest time, I lost hope. I thought he would be lost to me forever. I just... Harry, I need to tell you-"

"Potter?" The voice was young and squeaky, one that was going through the early stages of puberty.

They were a few steps from entering the atrium when they stopped. In front of them stood one of the younger Durmstrang students that Harry never bothered to remember the name of.

He turned to Kirsten, raising an eyebrow.

Looking at the kid and then at Harry, she only waved her hand, dismissing her train of speech. "I just wanted to tell you how much your support through it all has meant to me and that you truly are a great friend." Then she looked back at the kid, just as curious as Harry was.

The kid shoved a note in Harry's hand, "Someone told me to give this to you." Then he just about bolted away. Some of the younger kids who were new to Durmstrang, still were not used to being in the same school as _the_ Harry Potter. Which meant instead of hiding their disdain and fear like many of the older kids, the younger kids were more _obvious_ in their actions.

Harry opened the small square note, for both him and Kirsten to see.

"Again?" Kirsten asked the question that they were both thinking.

* * *

Harry made his way through the dorm of the Dark Arts students. Even if he was given a chance to change dorms, he would not. Despite it being the _Dark Arts_ dorm, the interior design was not at all gloomy. There were no skulls, snakes, severed limbs, or portraits of demons that hung on the wall.

The dorm itself was quite simple and cosy. Carpets here, cushioned chairs there. There was nothing there that would suggest it was the lair of future dark wizards. Of course, it was not as populated as the Charms dorm, or as bright as the Transfiguration dorm, but there was a comfort here that could not be found anywhere else. It was like the shade of an old tree offering shelter regardless of the weather.

As he walked past the many rooms that remained uninhabited, he heard it. At first, he thought it was coming from one of his dorm mates, but as he got closer, he realized the noise was coming from his room, and it was loud.

He knew what it was almost immediately.

When he opened his door, the bickering noise greeted him at full blast. "That's just ridiculous."

"No, it's not. You are."

Hermione and Zacharias. Who else could make that much noise arguing?

"Harry, you're here." Finally one of them had noticed him.

He dropped his bag down. The scrolls and books were getting heavy.

He had expected Smith to be in his room. The Hufflepuff had said they needed to talk about the potion that Harry's attackers had forced down his throat. There was also the problem of finding Harry's fourth and final attacker. They had much to discuss.

But Hermione's presence was unexpected.

Zacharias made a look that said, _I didn't tell her anything, and I'm not exactly sure you want her to know this._

Harry grimaced.

He did not like lying to Hermione, even if they were lies of omission. She was honest with him, and she at the very least deserved the same honesty from him. But things were complicated... with his identity, and her rigidity when it came to breaking the rules, and Holden. Of course, they were all excuses. There was nothing stopping him from telling her the truth. No one was pointing a wand at his head and telling him to lie.

He was just scared. There was no way to tell how she would react and well if things did go awry, he did not want to lose her as a friend. So the lies would continue for now.

"Hermione, what are you doing here?"

"I finished decrypting the note you gave me a few days ago. I didn't know where you were, so I just came here since the second task is tomorrow. What's Smith doing here?"

So that was why she was here. After receiving the note, he had sought out Hermione for help in decoding it, and it seemed she had once again solved the puzzle in record speed. The second note was nearly the same as the first note, which had warned him of the first task. The message this time was once again scribbled on a muggle sticky paper—Harry still wasn't entirely sure what it was called—and was a series of dashes and dots on two lines.

Smith waited for him to answer, no doubt curious to see if he would tell her the truth.

"We were going to go play Wizard's chess, but it seems we are going to have to reschedule."

"Gosh darn it," Smith said with enough sarcasm to make Harry glance at Hermione to see if their cover was blown. "I was really looking forward to checkmating you. No worries though, I'm curious to see what this mysterious note is anyways." He gestured for Hermione to explain the contents of the note.

Smith staying did not really bother Harry. The Hufflepuff knew enough that one more thing would not hurt, and perhaps he would be able to find whoever was delivering the notes. Hermione, on the other hand, had her reservations about sharing the information with Smith.

She sighed as if Harry was making a grave mistake in letting Smith stay.

Smith raised his hands in mock surrender, "I'm just here to observe, the two of you carry on with whatever it is. Don't mind me."

Hermione rolled her eyes, but began explaining. "The first line says 'listen in water' and the second is the same as last time. It is signed off by 'an ally'. So I figured this is a clue for the second task, more specifically the egg. We couldn't change the sound that the egg emitted, but we can change the medium we listen to the egg in."

Harry snapped his fingers. "That could work." And it made enough sense to them both.

But there was only one way to find out for sure.

Durmstrang was a large school. It was carved out of the side of a mountain, which meant it was as large as a mountain. If one would actually allow themselves to wander the school, it would take years for them to know the basic layout. Luckily, Harry had years to explore the school and it was much larger than what someone would think at first impression. Most of the classrooms and dorms were placed on the higher levels since there would be more sunlight on the days the sun did dare to brave the cold and come out. Most of the areas of the school closer to the centre of the mountain, away from the exterior were more deserted. And during one of Harry's long walks, he had discovered a large fountain.

He led Hermione and Zacharias out of his dorm, down the familiar path engraved into his body.

A cleaning charm must have been cast on it, because the fountain was as clean as the last time he came, and the day he first discovered it. Despite its age, the fountain still worked perfectly and sprouted fresh water from its marble structure.

"Never been much of a swimmer," Zacharias muttered, as Harry stepped into the fountain's water. Smith and Hermione on the other hand, stood supportively to the side, free from soaking their shoes.

Harry bent down and twisted open the latch on his golden egg.

Part of him had expected it not to work, and braced for the awful screech that always followed. Instead, a garbled dull sound came from the water below him. It was almost like someone was speaking below the water.

Without warning, he dunked his head in the water and the distorted noises became clear and crisp voices.

 _Come seek us where our voices sound,_  
 _We cannot sing above the ground,_  
 _And while you're searching ponder this;_  
 _We've taken what you'll sorely miss,_  
 _An hour long you'll have to look,_  
 _And to recover what we took,_  
 _But past an hour, the prospect's black,_  
 _Too late, it's gone, it won't come back._

When he emerged, Zacharias and Hermione's questioning faces waited for a response. He could see the curiosity radiating from their faces and the suspense was killing them.

" _Well?_ "

Harry only smiled. "Zacharias, do you know where Cedric Diggory spends his free time?"


	13. Radiance

"Even in the darkest souls, there are flashes of light."

-Darrow Starkov

* * *

The wind howled around them. They were freezing and the only pieces of clothing they were wearing—swimsuits and shorts—did little to help. The fabric, of course, was to be water resistant, not wind resistant.

Then again, what other weather would they expect from the winters at Durmstrang when they were surrounded by miles and miles of snow? Like the first task, someone thankfully had the bright idea of casting an environment barrier for the second task. It created a bubble where they would be safe from the weather outside, but the cold must have found a way to seep in.

The champions stood on a platform above what would have been the frozen lake, except that it was no longer frozen. Presumably, the ice surface had been removed or melted so the champions could dive into the lake's murky depths and look for their _stolen treasure_.

"So I heard you fell down the stairs," Holden said, as they waited for the audience to shuffle in, every one of them was bundled up from head to toe.

Harry had wondered how long before his brother found out. "Not every day is a good day."

"And some days, apparently, we lose all sense of balance." Holden teased lightly. "So how are you? Think you can still swim?"

"I think I will manage. If not, it's on you to carry me back up. How about you?"

" _I_ didn't fall down any stairs, but I was stuck on the golden egg clue. But thanks to Cedric Diggory telling me how to finally open it, I managed to find some gillyweed last night."

Strange, Harry thought, Hermione had left shortly after his discovery to tell Holden about the clue in the egg. She should have reached Holden first. He then looked around the stands that surrounded them. No sign of the bushy haired witch.

"Do you know where Hermione is?"

Holden shrugged. "I haven't seen her since the day before yesterday."

Strange indeed, but he had no time to dwell on her absence. Crouch's voice boomed across the stands, introducing the second task. Harry paid little attention to it as he looked at his fellow champions. Each one was prepping for the task ahead, all of them having found out about the egg's clue from Diggory.

He saw Krum transfiguring his head into that of a shark, and his brother forcing the gillyweed down his throat. As for the rest of the champions, most of them had chosen the bubble-head charm.

Harry had not.

The task was an hour long, and it would be draining on his magic to constantly have the charm allowing him to breathe. He was not particularly as gifted in transfiguration either, nor did he have the vast knowledge of gillyweed's properties. He had devised another way.

After he had taken his swim in the fountain with the egg, he and Zacharias had the idea of a potion. It was difficult to make and required the daring theft of potion ingredients from the three school's potion professors, but they had done it. After spending most of the day hunched over a cauldron, they finished their concoction. It was now that Harry pulled the vial out, the navy blue potion sitting patiently for use.

"-in the water. Not all the champions will be going in at once. We will begin with the last place champion and move upward until the first. Each champion will have a one-minute head start over the champion after them. We will begin at the sound of the canon."

As if on cue, the shot was fired before the words could be properly processed. There was a small cluster of screams from the audience members who sat too close to the canon, but nothing else happened. There was no one diving headfirst into the water, no one taking advantage of the extra minute because the last place champion was Latisha Randle.

She remained lying on the platform, still trapped in a coma and probably never to walk for the rest of her life. Everyone watched in an awkward silence at the lack of action. The true cruelty of the tournament was rearing its ugly head, but then the minute was up. The second last place champion, Basile Zénon, dove into the dark waters.

The crowd cheered, albeit straining and uncomfortably. Then the next champion dove in, and then the next. With each one, the crowd grew louder and more confident. By the time Holden—who was third place—plunged into the water, the crowd had completely forgotten about the unconscious girl who was forced to participate in despite her condition.

Harry could only think how incredibly lucky she was. Not the part that concerned her medical state, but the second task. It was not like the first where they were thrown into immediate danger. Here, she could stay safe above the water and whatever dangers lurked below. If the second task was like the first, the tournament would have one less champion for the third task. A part of him wondered if it had been designed like this specifically for her. The ministries definitely did not want a death on their hands.

It was almost a minute since Cedric had entered, leaving Harry alone on the platform with the exception of Randle.

He looked at the vial once more and gulped it down. The potion was as thick as syrup and tasted of fresh mountain water, which meant they brewed it correctly. It tasted so different from the poison that was forced into his mouth which felt like last night. His mind forced him to relive the memory, and he could feel the bitterness and hatred seeping into him along with the cold.

The ninth canon shot was fired, and he jumped over the edge of the platform. The water surrounded him in seconds and provided a nice distraction from his memories. He swam deeper and deeper until the surface was a blur.

Considering he had not drowned, it seemed the potion had worked. The liquid had infused itself into his lungs and he could breathe in water as if it was air.

Although he had not used the bubble-head charm, he had cast various charms on himself. One to let him swim easier, another to let his eyes adapt better to seeing underwater. These charms were not ones that drained magic as they were being used. Rather they were smaller charms, one-time casting type of charms.

The water looked as murky while one was submerged in it, as it did when one looked down at its surface. So it was not like he would be able to see the anything too far away. Still, there were rays of light that seemed to penetrate the water, providing some vision.

So then which direction should he swim towards? He had three-hundred and sixty degrees he could choose from, but only one would lead him in the correct direction.

He could see the dark outlines of sunken ships protruding from the floor of the lake and swam closer.

The second task revolved around recovering whatever he lost from the merpeople. Which meant he needed to look for their village. He followed the trail of broken ships, remembering something about how the merpeople attacked anyone who sailed too close.

Harry wondered what exactly they had taken from him. He didn't remember anything missing, certainly not anything he would 'sorely miss'. In truth, Harry valued very little things in his life. Everything he had was borrowed out or given to him—his clothes, his books—none of it was exactly his. Then his personal objects, well he had none. Even his father had rarely sent him a present for Christmas, and there was absolutely no chance he would get anything for his birthday. No, everyone was too busy celebrating the birth of Holden, not Harry.

"Help." he heard an eloquent voice, despite being distorted by water and the bubble-head charm.

He glanced down at an innocent-looking field of seaweed, but Harry knew better. There was life on the lake floor whether it was a plant or an animal. Regardless, they all had a way of obtaining food either by picking up the scraps or by catching their own. That was why Harry had been cautious about being too low in the water.

However, it would seem that Fleur Delacour was not cautious enough. The seaweed that once harmlessly swayed with the current was now wrapping itself around her. Each one working together with the others to pull her down. Her hands were already dealt with, which mean her wand was no use to her. By now, most of her was covered in seaweed. She looked similar to a mummy, the only difference was that she was not dead _yet_.

Harry saw Zénon, the other Beauxbatons student nearby, aware of Delacour's predicament. She was looking at him, her eyes begging him to help. He only offered her a shrug as he swam by. Harry could almost imagine him saying, _ain't my problem sister._

And then he was gone.

Harry sighed. He should have followed Zénon's example and left. It would mean one less person to worry about and he could spend the time completing the task instead. He looked down at her once more, the seaweed had wrapped her completely like a sandwich waiting to be eaten, and it wouldn't be long now until death.

 _"Relashio."_

He continued swimming towards the merpeople village as the fiery sparks of purple made contact with the seaweed. It was already releasing its grip on the female champion and Fleur would be fine. Perhaps traumatized, but overall fine.

The village was not too far away, but strangely enough, it was deserted. There was not a single soul that lived in the buildings constructed by the merpeople underwater. The only sign of life was some vegetation and a few fishes who seemed to be separated from the rest of its kind.

Something certainly wasn't right here.

At the centre of the town was a circular stone platform raised above the rest. Chained to it were seven people, students from all of the three schools. So they had taken people, not objects as their stolen treasure.

If there were seven remaining, it meant that two of the champions had already completed the task.

The hour was almost up, which meant he was running out of time.

He swam forward, and only then did the merpeople come out from their hiding place. Each one joined the assembling line of defence, their tridents pointed at him. He noticed how some of them were already injured, no doubt from the previous encounters with the other champions. One of them even had what looked like a shark bite.

Then half of them turned to face a newcomer, he could see Vanja Durik in the corner of his eye. "We are only here for our-"

 _"NO!"_ the voices of the merpeople sang, interrupting Vanja.

Not taking no for an answer, she started her assault on the merpeople who went on the offensive. Even those who were facing Harry attacked, not willing to risk being attacked first.

The two champions were very much outnumbered and it seemed that the merpeople had learned from their confrontation with the previous champions. They were focused on taking their wands.

 _"Bombarda,_ Harry cast, but it was not enough. The charms and jinxes they learned were not meant for underwater use. They only had a fraction of effectiveness on the merpeople. Even Vanja was barely holding her own. Eventually, she would lose the fight to the merpeople as well.

He could feel the tridents scraping against his skin and their webbed hands pulling at his wand. Harry only had one chance as his mind filtered through his knowledge of spells. He thought of an idea, but it would not end well.

Harry tried his best to point his wand upward and then, _"Ventus"_. The wind shot from his wand knocking back any merpeople unlucky enough to be in the way. It also propelled him away from them all and away from the surface. It was only a temporary fix and the first part of his plan. Soon enough, the merpeople collected their bearings and began swimming towards him. It was a large mass of scales, fins and pointed tridents.

His plan was stupid, but he didn't have much choice. He quickly cast a bubble around himself, sealing the water outside and away from his skin. Pointing his wand at the sky, he could hear the storm clouds brewing above. The incantation left his mouth in mumbled words, knowing that they might very well kill him.

The lightning that struck the lake was blinding. It was only a flash, but it all happened in slow motion and left an eternity of pure whiteness to occupy his vision. Despite pushing himself away from the surface, he could still feel the electricity conducted by the water around him. The bubble took the brunt of it, but it still stung him.

When his eyes finally readjusted, all he could see were the merpeople, their bodies sinking around him. The lightning had mainly struck them, some of the merpeople having brunt scales where it had impacted. He tried to push past it, but he was drowning in limbs. He could only swim upward until all the bodies had landed on the lake floor with a thud.

He heard a cry and looked at the merpeople buildings. Maybe it wasn't as empty as he thought. Small heads poked out from windows and doorways. The faces looked so young.

The children.

One of them had dared to leave its hiding spot, and the others began to follow it. They were not rushing at Harry, but to the pile of merpeople. No doubt they were looking for their parents.

Harry could feel the guilt rising, but squashed it before it became too much. He had tried his best not to channel too much magic into the spell. His intention was never to maim them, only immobilize them. But he didn't know how much electricity it would take to stun them all. If it was too little, it would do nothing. They would be able to close the distance to Harry, and if he tried it again, he would kill himself.

 _"Alive."_ the young voices sang. _"Alive. Alive. Alive."_

Harry sighed in relief. He swam over to Vanja who was also alive, although unconscious. With one arm grabbing her collar, he swam them over to where the captives were and laid her down near a stone pillar.

He only recognized some of the captives. There was Ronald Weasley, in all his ginger glory. Next to him was a beautiful younger girl and Harry wondered if she was part Veela.

Hermione. She was the hostage they had taken for him. Or he assumed so, considering he had no connection to anyone else. He severed the chain that tied her down and was about to bring her to the surface when he remembered the unconscious girl who was stuck in a coma. They had taken a hostage for her too, but no one would be looking for them.

Harry searched the faces of the hostages until he stopped at one. The face of a young boy who he had visited in the hospital once. The face of a young boy that had hid behind a mask as Harry was beaten. The face of a boy who made a mistake.

He cut the chain that tied the boy down.

A small webbed hand reached for his arm. For a moment he had panicked, the merpeople had woken up. But the hand was too small to be that of a grown merperson. Instead, it was a child's hand, the same child that had been brave enough to rush out and check on their parents.

The child did not grab at him or attack him. It only held his arm softly, pointing towards a dark cave near the village. _"No. We need them. Or else It will come for us. Feed It and there will be a long peace for all."_

And then Harry realized why the merpeople blocked them from the hostages. He understood what the elevated circular platform was. The captives were being sacrificed. That was why they only had an hour. The sacrifice was in one hour, which meant any captive remaining would be sacrificed.

The floor seemed to rumble on cue. The hour was almost up. There were no other champions in sight.

 _"It is coming."_

He didn't have enough time to cut the other captives free and swim them all to the surface. Even if he did, doing so would not solve the problem. The beast—whatever it was—would still attack and it would take the defenceless merpeople who still laid unconscious courtesy of Harry, or it would go after the children of the merpeople.

Harry looked into the child's pleading eyes and resigned himself to the task ahead. He spoke to reassure the child, but it did not understand his words. So instead, he showed the child. He placed a levitation charm on Hermione and Kane, one that would slowly float them to the surface, but Harry did not follow them. He picked up a nearby discarded trident with one hand and held his wand tightly in the other.

The ground shook and he braced himself. Harry didn't know what he expected. Perhaps a whale named Moby or a giant squid. What came out of the almost collapsed cave was neither of those, granted it did have tentacles and what looked like a fin.

The creature was an enormous fish-like thing with crab claws, a beak, and rows of teeth. No wonder the merpeople had wanted to please the beast.

Its roar was deafening, knocking Harry back.

He was really wondering how he would defeat it. The trident was like a toothpick to the creature, and he doubted that spells would do anything. He needed to use his surrounding, but it wasn't like the algae was going to help. What was Harry going to do, convince the creature to become a vegetarian?

The first thing he needed to do was stop the captives from being eaten, which was simple enough. He threw a disillusionment charm over the five remaining captives and Vanja.

As the creature approached, it roared in frustration, not seeing its meal. One of the merpeople's house was crushed under it.

Harry could hear the calls of the merpeople but paid little attention to it. He was, after all, a little too busy making sure no one got eaten.

The creature turned then to the pile of merpeople who were now starting to regain consciousness. It seemed that it did not mind eating seafood for lunch. The calls of the merpeople grew louder.

Harry threw the trident as hard as he could, knowing that saving it for a fight would be pointless. Then added an acceleration charm on it so that it shot forward like a rocket. He was surprised when the trident embedded itself into the creature's shoulder rather than ricocheting off its skin.

The good news was that the creature was no longer heading towards the merpeople. The bad news was that it was heading towards him.

"Great, now zit 'is angry." He turned to see Fleur Delacour beside him, a single piece of seaweed still tangled around her leg.

"Get the captives to the surface."

She laughed despite the creature headed their way. "And leave you to fight zat? Boys and zheir egos," she commented offhandedly. "Even if I did, you would die before I could get all ze captives to the surface-"

They parted as a tentacle came down.

The only advantage the water provided was that it slowed the larger creature down. If they were above land, that claw would have very likely crushed them both to death.

So that was nice, but it was not like they could spend all day dodging claws and hope it would be enough to put the creature to sleep. Then there was the fact that the creature was not very agile. It was crushing homes and buildings as it attacked and soon enough—even with the disillusionment charm—the creature's wild swing would kill the other captives. Or it would accidentally step on the merpeople, all of who were now chanting a single word.

"Vhat are zey saying?" Fleur asked rhetorically, more to complain about the noise than actually caring what they had to say.

"Kraken," Harry muttered to himself. He had heard of the creature before while reading mythology books, but he couldn't remember how it was defeated or if it was defeated at all. No matter, it gave him an idea. It reminded him of the name Typhon.

"Vhat?"

"I have a plan." Typhon was a giant in Greek mythology. He alone was stronger than all the Titans combined and powerful enough to rival the Olympian gods, but he had been defeated and buried beneath Mount Etna. "I'm going to lure it back into its cave. When I do, cave in the entrance."

"You vill be sealed in," Fleur said to him.

Harry was already gone and she had no choice, but to follow.

Direct spell attacks didn't work. Still, magic could help. With his wand, he hurled the remains of what used to be a house at the Kraken.

The creature roared at the annoyance and began swatting the pieces away. It did nothing but anger the Kraken and force its attention to Harry. So far, so good. He then slowly led it back to its cave, carefully preventing it from smashing into the other captives.

Now was the hard part.

Standing at the entrance, Harry realized the cave was less of a cave and more of a hole. He also realized it was narrower than he anticipated and the Kraken now swam to him at full speed with its mouth open. The creature's teeth shined, eager to make Harry's acquaintance. Patiently, he waited at the centre of the circular entrance. Only at the last second—before he was swallowed by the Kraken—did he propel himself to the side. The spell slammed him against the cave walls with such speed that he didn't have enough time to cast a cushioning charm.

"Bloody hell," he swore as his back made a particularly rough impact with the jagged stone. He stayed there for a moment as the Kraken rushed in, its momentum almost enough to drag Harry down with it.

As much as he wanted to rest, he began making his way upward, out of the cave. He didn't want to spend the rest of what would be a short life trapped in a hole with a Kraken. Fleur was already starting to seal the exit as boulders began falling over the entrance. She needed to do it quickly, burying the Kraken underneath enough weight that even it would not be able to escape.

Unfortunately, as the cave's entrance collapsed, debris started falling into the hole as well. For Harry, it felt like he was trying to swim towards the sky as it was falling down on him. What little light that managed to shine into the cave was disappearing quickly and the Kraken was starting to realize that his lunch had lured it into a trap.

Harry pushed the falling pebbles and stones away, but there was too much debris. It was all too much. A larger rock collided with him before he could get out if its way. Then another, and another.

He couldn't get his footing again and was starting to sink.

His vision was becoming unfocused from one too many hits to the head. He could only see blurry colours. No, not even colours. He could only see the small crack of light that was rapidly vanishing and the darkness that devoured everything.

So much darkness.

At least he could die saving people. At least he could die before he became a dark wizard like the world expected him to become. At least he could die knowing he proved the world wrong.

The light still remained, taunting him with the slightest of hope. He still had a chance, but he was so tired. His body ached from the fight against both the merpeople and the Kraken. How much blood had he lost? How deep were his wounds? He would never know. No one would. His body would never be recovered.

 _Harry Potter._

The voice was raspy and grated on his ears. It was cold and not one he had heard before, but it sounded so familiar. He could feel chills running down his spine as he heard the words.

 _Harry Potter. You cannot die. Harry Potter. We have yet to meet. Wake up, child. WAKE UP!_

With his wand in his hand, he cast the strongest shield he could above his head. Looking up at the light once more, he mumbled the words, _"Ascendio."_ The shield pushed aside any debris in his path as he shot upwards.

It was only when he could feel himself propelling towards the surface—when the darkness faded and the light consumed him—that he closed his green eyes to rest.

* * *

 **Not one of my favourites since I've never been an action scene writer.**

 **I will be trying to release the next few chapters in quick** **succession since in the story they are pretty connected. So I guess you will be hearing from me soon.**

 **Until next time.**

 **-Pyrrhical**


	14. Recovery

"I see my enemies. I see my allies. I do not see my friends because I do not know if they exist."

-Darrow Starkov

* * *

When he opened his eyes again, he was being hauled onto the platform.

He was alive. Alive.

His senses were at maximum capability, maybe from the adrenaline or almost dying.

"Harry!" Someone rushed over to him, wrapping him in a towel and kissing the top of his head. "Thank god you are alright."

He only laid there on the platform, too tired to respond. His body felt like someone had taken him apart and hastily reassembled him.

He noticed that he happened to be beside the unconscious Latisha Randle. How coincidental. Though her eyes were closed, her mouth was wide with a smile. Harry wondered if she was smiling because she knew her brother was now safe.

Then he turned his head to look at the sky. The clear, cloudless sky that was impossible to see when one was underwater, impossible to see in that dark cave.

He was safe above the water, but he swore that he could still hear the Kraken's roars.

The sky was so blue. It was so absolutely blue.

His eyes closed again.

* * *

The hospital ward was not somewhere he visited often. It wasn't like he went on an adventure every year that ended up sending him to the infirmary.

He woke up with a few bandages here and there. He had gotten a few cuts and wounds, but nothing too life-threatening. The nurse had said he was mostly suffering from exhaustion, and possibly a concussion. She told him to spend a day in the hospital ward to rest and for observation.

During this day, he had many visitors. Some he expected and others, not so much.

The first set of visitors were Kirsten and Adrik. Kirsten had grabbed Adrik and Harry, the three of them sharing a big group hug. She congratulated Harry on a job well done, while expressing how glad she was that he was okay.

"We were sitting in the stands and we were watching, waiting for you to come up. We were so worried. I don't know what I would do if something did happen to you."

Harry smiled. How did he ever manage to find friends like these? "Well, you would be stuck with Adrik for one."

"Stuck with some pretty good company." Harry's best friend added in.

Harry could only laugh as Kirsten elbowed Adrik in the stomach, a little too hard. In the end, they all laughed.

After they all calmed down, Adrik continued. "But Harry mate, you really got to finish the task faster. After all, I did get some money on you and I do enjoy large profits." He received another elbow to the gut. "Oof, but the lightning stunt was cool."

They explained how he had finished third for the task. Cedric Diggory had finished first and shark-headed Krum had been second. They said how the judges had talked it over, and even though some of them believed Harry had shown excellent moral fibre for saving the remaining captives, the judges had decided to not take it into account. As a result, Harry was no longer in first place on the banner. Cedric Diggory now held the lead, followed by Harry. After was Krum in third place.

Soon enough, the two had to leave for potions class. Professor Blandan was in a particularly bad mood that day because of "missing potion ingredients" and Adrik couldn't risk being late, again.

As if perfectly timed, Fleur Delacour came, taking their place. Harry smiled when Adrik almost tripped over himself while ogling Fleur. Kirsten had to shove him out of the infirmary, but Fleur seemed like she was used to the attention. The French student had conversed with him, asking him the basics. How was he? Did he feel better? They talked shortly before she too departed, but she had said something to him in French as she left. From what he could piece together, it was something along the lines of "brave idiot", which he couldn't argue with.

But the visitor's seat by Harry's bed had not remained empty for long.

After a few minutes of silence, a young boy had filled the seat. He had come from the visitor's seat a few beds down. At first, the boy said nothing and looked everywhere other than at him.

Harry returned the courtesy. It was not an awkward silence, but one of reflection and slight guilt. Then the younger boy looked at him, the same boy Harry had saved during the second task. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. Then he closed it and swallowed any pride that was in the way, it looked like he was about to lick the bottom of a shoe.

"You are looking better." Harry started, knowing that the boy was ready to talk but didn't know what to begin with.

The boy nodded, glad to have somewhere for the conversation to start. "I think most people look better when they aren't in a magical sleep, but yeah, I feel better for sure." He scratched his head. "You look better too, than when you came out of the water."

More silence. This time Harry would not start. He did what he could to make it easier for the boy, but in the end, it was on him.

"I'm sorry."

And there it was, Kane Randle's apology. Once the hardest words were spoken out loud, the rest came out easily.

"After that night in the hospital," the boy said, rubbing his hand that was still bandaged. No doubt it was still healing from when Harry had pierced it with a wand. "I did some thinking. Not like I could sleep much after your visit. You were right. I got angry and I blamed what happened to my sister on you. And then during the task, you didn't have to save me, but you did. So thank you. And I will stay away from you now like you told me to... But if you ever need anything, I owe you one. Anything at all."

"Kane," Harry called out before the boy got up to leave. "I was reading the rules of the tournament. Once selected as a champion, she has to compete in all the tasks unless she forfeits."

"There is no point telling me. The choice isn't mine to make." The boy responded.

"She is in an indefinite state of unconsciousness, which means her next of kin can make the decision for her. You can forfeit on her behalf."

Kane shook his head. "I know that, but like I said, the choice isn't mine to make. If she forfeits, she loses her powers."

"But she gets to keep her life. Even if she does wake from her coma before the third task with her magic still intact, how is she going to compete without her legs?"

"I wouldn't be able to stand myself if she lost her magic because of a decision I made."

"You wouldn't be able to stand yourself if she died because of a decision you didn't make. It's a hard choice Kane, I won't lie to you. Think it over, delay it as much as you can. You have some time before the third task with the Yule Ball going on. Just give it some thought."

The boy only nodded, not willing to make any promises. He stood up and left Harry with some words before walking out for some fresh air to think. "Everyone will forget what you did during the task. They will let their fear take over them and forget, but I won't. I can promise you that." He had shrugged and then ended with, "I don't know if it matters to you or not, but you aren't the person everything thinks you are and I'm sorry for ever thinking so."

* * *

Harry had taken a short nap afterwards and woke up to a note on his bedside. It seemed Zacharias Smith had stopped by shortly while he was sleeping.

 _Feel better._

 _-Z.S_

 _Maybe we can talk when you are feeling better._

He folded the note and left it in his pocket as Hermione approached.

"You are awake," she stated.

"So I am. How about you?"

She sat down beside him in a huffed manner. "If you are asking me if I enjoyed being kidnapped and put into a bewitched sleep, the answer is no. I thought the idea of bringing back the Triwizard Tournament after it got discontinued was a bad idea, but now it is outright ridiculous. How can the ministry officials even allow this? Kidnapping is a crime for god sake. If you hadn't fought the Kraken, the remaining captives would have died. The ministries are claiming that they _didn't know_ there was a Kraken in the lake, but how could they not? Even for the first task, I knew something was off. One of the dragons was an Antipodean Opaleye. That breed of dragons is never aggressive. They rarely attack, only if it is hungry, but that dragon was erratic. They all were. The poor dragons must have been starved prior to the task so that they were riled up."

Harry had not known that particular fact about the dragons. He knew that dragons, in general, were dangerous, but he did not know that the dragons they fought for the first task were intentionally aggravated.

"Harry, you need to be more careful out there. The people in charge of the tournament are becoming more and more negligent."

"Negligent or has it all been intentional," he muttered to himself.

She gasped. "You aren't saying, you can't be saying they did it on purpose."

Hermione was the paragon of order. Rules were her life and she knew that they were not perfect, but to question them would be to question her very way of living. It would be to question what she lived by.

"Harry, you are being absurd. Why would they want to harm anyone? One of the champions dying wouldn't do their public image any good, don't even mention the legal action that will be taken against them or the outrage."

"Two beds down from me is Latisha Randle. She lost both her legs and is in a coma from the first task. She still had to participate in the second task and she will have to keep participating even if it kills her, or lose her magic. Where is the outrage, Hermione?"

She opened her mouth but remained speechless. She didn't have an answer for him. Hermione Granger didn't have an answer.

Harry had lived his entire life under the thumb of society because he was different. Not only had he witnessed it, but he experienced firsthand the atrocities that society as a whole was responsible for. And because it was society's fault, there was nowhere for the blame to be placed. After all, who would want to accuse themselves? There was no space in society for society's imperfections. The flaws would be ignored or when they could not be ignored, they would be forgotten. And this crime of ignorance and avoidance was the fault of each member of society.

He had a decision now.

Hermione only saw part of the problem. She only saw the injustices and shortcomings of the tournament. Nothing more than the tip of the iceberg. There was no way she could know about the underlying plans and schemes at play if he never told her they existed.

He could tell Hermione about everything—the secrets were slowly making their presence felt as they weighed him down—or he could tell her nothing. In the end, he settled for somewhere in between.

"Hermione, do you remember that time you drank almost an entire bottle of Firewhisky, after the champion selection?"

She nodded her head slowly, unsure of where he was going with it.

"In your drunken state, you made a remark-"

"I said you didn't enter the tournament."

"And you were correct in saying so," his voice was quiet. Luckily the beds around him were not in use. It seemed like it was a slow day for visitation and the fact that it was dinner time left the hospital relatively empty.

"I thought that was all a dream. If you didn't enter your name in the goblet, then who did?"

"I don't know, but that's why I think what happened was intentional."

She looked at him gravely, understanding the connection. Her voice when she spoke was an echo of what he was thinking. "How better for someone to kill you than in an accident during the tournament?"

They were quiet as her brain processed the information he told her. "Why didn't you tell anyone?"

"Who could I tell? If someone was powerful and crafty enough to enter my name in the Goblet of Fire, there isn't anything I can do against them. I have no proof, it would be my word against their's and I don't even know who they are. It would be pointless to tell anyone. The moment my name was picked, I was bound by the magical contract."

Hermione nodded, accepting his reasoning. "So now what?"

He shrugged. Harry had been asking himself that questions for some time now and could only come up with one answer.

"Survive."

* * *

Hermione had left shortly after his revelation. She gave no explanation for her sudden departure, but she did not need to. He could see it all over her face. She wanted time away from him to think through everything, and that was why he had not told her anything more. He had not told her about the night he was attacked. He had not told her about the deal he made with Zacharias. He had not told her about Draco's loyalty to him or anything else. Maybe he would one day, but that day was not today.

Her reaction was normal. Not what Harry had hoped for, but at least she didn't immediately run off to find a professor or headmaster. At least she was able to sit patiently before walking off.

He understood and watched as she left.

However, she had mentioned something interesting to him before leaving. The last thing she remembered before the second task was going to find Holden. They had kidnapped her before she could do so, and when she woke up, she found herself in the middle of the lake being pulled onto the platform. The weird part was what happened in between. During her magically induced sleep, she had a dream. It wasn't like a normal dream, and in it, she was wandering around an empty Durmstrang. It was all most likely a clue to the third task.

It was late at night when Harry received his last visitor. The Headmaster of Hogwarts himself, Albus Dumbledore, had entered the hospital ward and stopped at the feet of Harry's bed. The old wizard did not sit down and opted to stand. Harry wondered if it was so that the headmaster could subconsciously appear to be in the dominant position.

"Mr. Potter." he greeted the boy on the hospital bed.

Harry tilted his head to the side and raised an innocent eyebrow. "I'm sorry, you are?"

"My apologies. It seems that old age has been catching up with me recently. I am Albus Dumbledore, the Headmaster of Hogwarts."

"Nice to meet you, sir. What can I do you for?"

"Along with forgetfulness," the headmaster stroked his long white beard, making him appear older and wiser. "It seems that insomnia is a symptom of my age as well. I had heard that you were recovering well and decided to visit you in the infirmary."

"How awfully thoughtful of you. I am truly honoured and thrilled to meet you in person."

The old man smiled, the ever-present twinkle in his eye. "It was quite brave of you Mr. Potter. You risked your life to save others when you could have simply taken Ms. Granger and completed the task. Quite commendable." Making a show of looking around, the professor asked, "Where is Ms. Granger? I saw her here earlier looking quite distraught."

"She must have retired to her room for the night. It is somewhat late."

"You know, for the second task, it was fairly difficult finding someone as your captive." Then the headmaster sat down, almost as if lost in thought. He ignored Harry's comment about the time and continued, "Mr. Weston and Ms. Abram were simply not close enough. You do spend more time with them than most, but I sense that they are not the ones you confide in, nor are they the ones you would want to have your back in a fight. Your relationship is not exceedingly close, or not on your part at least. It would then only make sense to capture was Ms. Granger considering the two of you were spending more and more time together."

Harry remembered earlier Adrik had said something along the same lines. He had asked, clearly insulted, why he was not the one who was kidnapped, and questioned what relationship he had with Hermione while wriggling his eyebrows suggestively. Kirsten had delivered another elbow blow to his stomach for it.

"We find friendships in the most unexpected places."

"Indeed," the headmaster agreed as if knowing from experience, then changed topics, "It is rather late, isn't it? What seems to be keeping you up?"

An old man asking too many questions, he desperately wanted to respond, but he didn't want to make unnecessary enemies. Dumbledore was by no means an ally, but he was not precisely Harry's enemy either.

Stretching his arms and yawning, he tiredly said, "Just some midnight questions. Perhaps you could help satisfy my curiosity. I was just thinking about how lucky I am to participate in the Triwizard Tournament. It's all been such a lucky coincidence considering I am just above the age limit too. If only I could thank whoever made it possible."

"If you are asking who is responsible for the idea of continuing the tournament, I fear I do not have an answer for you. It was someone within the British Ministry of Magic who had first proposed it. The other two Ministries of Magic took some convincing to get on board. However, I believe their efforts will go to waste."

He muttered the last bit to himself, but Harry had caught the words. "And why would that be?"

Dumbledore's eyes continued twinkling like stars, he even smiled now that he realized his small slip-up. "Despite the efforts of the ministries, the tournament is currently under review. A decision should be reached shortly whether to proceed with it or not."

"It seems we must wait before any of us can find answers."

"It seems so..." Dumbledore smiled, satisfied with the intelligence he gathered. Harry returned the smile, satisfied as well.

That was what the whole conversation between them was, a chance for them to size up each other. An assessment to determine if the person across them was a threat. It would seem that they both arrived at the same conclusion.

Neither knew who was in the shadows orchestrating everything, they both only knew that someone was there.

"This has been a most pleasant chat, but I will keep you from sleeping no further. Rest well Mr. Potter, there is much to come. Sometimes what we need is not gold, fame or power. Just some friends will suffice. I think Mrs. Granger and Mr. Smith will do."

So Dumbledore knew about his relation to Zacharias Smith.

"Maybe we can have another chat again one day. Until then, headmaster."

When the old wizard was gone, he closed his eyes once more. As he slept, he dreamed of the voice that called out to him in the cave during the second task.

* * *

 **I have been pushing off updating this story. After the last chapter, I did some reflecting and after a lot of chin scratching, I decided to change the direction of the story. This, of course, meant that I had to change a lot of the events I had planned, and alter the future storyline. Although, I can't say that I'm disappointed with this choice.**

 **-Pyrrhical**


	15. Reconcile

"Forgiveness is not possible until the offence is acknowledged and the offender has done everything in their power to compensate for it. "

-Darrow Starkov

* * *

A grunt came from the blond boy in front of him.

"Honestly Potter, we have got to stop meeting like this." The young Malfoy heir spat out with the slightest of irritation as he brushed off his robes. After a few more meetings, he seemed to have relaxed around Harry. In his eyes, Harry was no longer a dangerous unknown threat, just a regular guy given a bad hand of cards and struggling to play them right.

Harry also got to know Malfoy during their meetings. He was not _entirely_ the stuck-up snob that Holden and Hermione often complained about. He was a complicated character. Then again everyone raised by a ruthless Death Eater was. Once you saw past the boastfulness and egotism, Malfoy was just a kid with a superiority complex. And after you saw past that, Malfoy was a just a good kid with flaws, which was something they all were.

"As much as I like kidnapping and dragging you into abandoned hallways, we should try to meet as little as possible to avoid being seen. We can use this to communicate for now." He tossed Malfoy a notebook. It was something he had been working on since their first meeting, figuring it was too difficult each time to drag Malfoy away from the Parkinson girl who always trailed behind.

"A diary?" the blond sneered, something that Harry found was almost second-nature for Slytherin.

"It works like two-way mirrors. What you write in your notebook, I can see in mine," Harry explained. Then he moved on the reason for the meeting. "Any news?" His words coming out more like a growl than he intended.

The blond straightened as if reporting to a commanding officer. There were moments when Draco would remember that Harry _was not_ just an ordinary person and to some degree, he was dangerous. The Dark Lord had wanted something from him, chosen Harry Potter of all people and it would be a mistake for the young Malfoy to forget that.

"Turns out I'm not the only one who was told not to enter the tournament. _All_ Death Eater kids were told not to enter the tournament. I don't know why. Not yet anyways."

Harry nodded, thinking that was it. He was about to turn on his heel and leave when the blond spoke up.

"I did some... digging into what happened to you," Draco said, treading the topic carefully. "Voldemort is gone, killed by your brother. There's no asking him for what happened, but that night... there was one other Death Eater that accompanied the Dark Lord. I don't know who it was or even the Death Eater's name, but if you want answers, he is the only one who can give them to you."

"Look into it." Harry hid the intrigue from his face. The intrigue at both the new discovery and the way Malfoy winced when he said the Dark Lord's name.

* * *

It had been a week since he last spoke to Hermione in the hospital. Neither of them had spoken to the other since. It was not like they were trying to avoid each other, just that they stopped looking for each other. Hermione needed time and he respected her enough to give her time.

Holden had noticed the tension. He had asked Hermione and Harry what was going on between them. Harry had lied and so had Hermione, which meant Holden would continue to be left out of the loop. With that being said, there was not a lot Harry's brother could do. He tried what he could. Holden tried to get them to meet. He tried mediating their meeting. He tried just about everything, but eventually, Holden gave up figuring they would solve their own problems.

Still, it was a good sign that she had kept Harry's secret from Holden, someone she trusted so much. This would mean that she had not told anyone else and maybe she would come around. Then again, it could just be Harry's false hopes giving him that impression.

There was also the fact that both of them were busy as it was, with school, their existing friends and so on. The list went on and on, making Harry realize how much effort they had put in before just to meet up. Yet, it was worth all the hassle. The question that remained now: was it still worth it?

Yes. Absolutely yes.

So he was determined one afternoon to seek out Hermione and talk to her. He could accept if she wanted nothing more to do with him. Of course, he would try everything in his power to prevent that from happening, but knowing was better than just waiting around. It was better to know the truth no matter how painful than to live in an illusion where everything would just be out of his grasp.

Harry had found her in the library. He knew that she had Transfiguration in the morning and often liked to go to the library after to review. True to his prediction she was there, situated in a chair by one of the round tables in the corner. Her head was buried in the massive textbook she currently held. She was so enraptured by the text's words that the rest of the world might as well have been on fire. It would have made no difference to her.

Yet, when he slowly approached her, she noticed his presence immediately. Her head shot up and their eyes made contact. In that moment where green clashed with brown, a flurry of emotions washed over her. Each one was more indistinguishable than the last. Harry was the first to look away when he saw that only anger remained after her emotions finally settled.

"Harry," she coolly greeted him. The coldness in her voice was enough to make him falter in his step.

Hermione looked torn between throwing a textbook at him or punching him in the face. She did neither.

"May I sit?"

"By all means. I was just about to leave." Her hands systematically putting away the books into her bag.

"Hemione." But she heard none of it. The table was almost clear by now.

Harry reached out with his hand. He did not grab her, he just needed her attention. She paused at the skin contact and pulled her hand away from him.

She looked at him like he was a problem that she would eventually have to deal with, there was no use pushing it off any longer.

"I'm not here to fight you."

"Then why are you here, Harry?"

Because he valued their friendship more than anything else. Because life without her seemed dull and plain. Because for the first time in his life he knew what lonely felt like.

Instead, he said none of it. The words were too tangled to come out.

"How you are doing?"

Hermione's patience was already wearing thin, and now she was done. She got up with her books and bag. "I've been better. Now as much as I would _not_ like to continue this conversation, I need to go."

She walked away without waiting for a response. Harry watched her leave like he had done in the hospital, but this time he went after her. He jogged up beside her, where he could notice her frown deepen at his presence.

"Hermione, can we talk? Please."

She did not stop her quick-paced march, but at least spoke to him. "No, Harry. Why do you want to talk now when you have been so good at keeping things from me this whole year?

He could feel the small fragments of guilt forming. The feeling was strange but undeniable. This, all of it, had been his fault. The plots against him were his own problem—not that he had chosen this life—and he was dragging her into it. He _had_ dragged her into the danger without telling her what exactly she was getting into, and she had every right to be mad.

They turned a corner and then another, almost running into other students several times, but he managed to stay with Hermione through it all.

"I didn't know you well enough. In my defence, I did just meet you this year and I didn't know if I-"

He stopped talking when their power walk met an abrupt halt. He turned to look at where they stopped and noticed a spacious room filled with dancing Hogwarts student, more specifically, the Hogwarts students that were in Hermione and Holden's house. The music was playing and did not pause at their entrance, but everyone who was dancing did.

So maybe she was trying to avoid him, but it seemed that she was not making up excuses to avoid him. She really had somewhere she needed to go.

"What are you all doing? I did not say stop."

The entire hoard of students continued dancing or attempting to so. Some were as graceful as swans while others looked like dying lions.

The professor who approached them was an older lady in black robes and a pointy, black hat. Her face was stern and yet, it was not threatening. The stress of life was evident in the lines on her face, but she seemed more lively than anyone else in the room.

"It seems that being able to dance will not be a concern if you plan on being late or not attending the Yule Ball at all. I expected better from you Ms. Granger."

"I'm sorry Professor McGonagall, I got caught up."

"Mhm," the professor did not look pleased with Hermione's excuse, but there was a hint of understanding in her tone when she noticed how the young witch was fuming with anger at the young wizard standing beside her. Then for the first time, the professor looked at Harry and almost flinched backwards. There was only a moment of shock that flashed across her face before it was covered up. Hermione had not noticed, but Harry who had dealt with this his whole life recognized it. When the professor spoke, there was no evidence of the previous shock, only austerity. "And I suppose this young man was who you were caught up in?"

Harry choked.

"Erm... yes," Hermione answered.

"You are late as it is. Spend the remainder of the lesson productively. Everyone has already paired up with someone and there may not be an even number of..." The professor turned to Harry, and the lightbulb above her head might as well have been as bright as the sun. "What is your name young man?"

He was sure that she already knew his identity but answered anyways. "Harry Potter from Durmstrang."

"Well Mr. 'Harry Potter from Durmstrang', seeing as you are the reason for Ms Granger's tardiness, you should be held accountable. Ms. Granger is in need of a dance partner and I'm sure your dancing skills could use some practice."

"Yes, ma'am."

"What are you waiting for? You have missed enough of the lesson already. And Mr. Potter," there was a ghost of a smile on her lips.

"Yes?"

"Don't call me ma'am," she said before departing.

He nodded even though at that point the professor's back was turned to them. Although, he felt she already knew.

Harry turned to Hermione and held out his hand after she had put down her bag. "May I have this dance?"

She hesitantly took it and they made their way through the crowd.

Both of them had one hand interlocked with the other's mirroring hand. Harry's remaining hand rested at Hermione's waist and her remaining hand hovered over his shoulder. They were inches apart, but she would not look at him. She made it her mission to look at everything other than his eyes.

"Hermione-"

"I agreed to dance with you. I did not agree to talk to you." Then as if on cue, she stepped on his foot. "Whoops," she said unapologetically as he winced.

He had come to see what her decision would be, whether she still wanted to be friends with him. Despite her hostility, she had not made up her mind yet. She was mad and rightfully so, but she had not told him to leave. She had not told him that she never wanted to see him again.

Once again she stepped on his foot, and he could see the small joy she was getting out of it. "My bad," but she meant none of it.

"I'm sorry Hermione. I'm sorry I kept it from you. I should have told you-"

His apology seemed to be the key to getting her to talk to him, not in the sense that she forgave him afterwards, but in the sense that it angered her enough to get her attention.

"But you didn't." she hissed quietly. The music was loud enough to cover most of their words, but the other couples dancing were quite close to them in proximity.

"I didn't," he admitted. "I don't trust people often and that is on me. You proved yourself time and time again, and I still didn't trust you. I lied to you and I kept secrets from you. I was so afraid you would betray me that I ended up betraying you. And for that I'm sorry, I am truly sorry Hermione, but I trust you now, I do-"

Her head whipped forward to finally look him straight in the eyes. "But how can I trust you?" She sounded dejected, no longer seething with anger. She was much like a child looking at a broken toy. She wanted to fix the toy, to fix their relationship, but she didn't know how. "Trusting someone means being vulnerable to them and believing that they won't take advantage of it. How can I trust you again?"

"You don't," he answered with conviction. "You trusted me, but I broke your trust. You shouldn't just give me your trust again just because I apologized. I am the one at fault, but let me show you that I am truly sorry. Give me a chance to earn your trust again."

"Harry... I know that trusting people isn't easy for you, especially with the life you have, and I don't expect you to suddenly profess all your secrets to me. Relationships are fragile and this isn't something that can be fixed overnight," she took a breath as if bracing herself for the mistake she was about to repeat, "but I'm willing to try again if you are."

"However long it takes, I will wait."

They were silent now, comfortably drifting along to the music. Enough words had been exchanged in this stalemate of a battle, it was time for both sides to retreat back a few steps.

Hermione was still angry with him, but less so than before.

He winced as she stepped on his foot again. "Hermione, I deserve everything, but maybe you could spare a few of my toes?"

She smiled. "The first few times, it was on purpose. That was an accident."

"And the professor was worried about my dancing," he lightly teased.

Hermione huffed. "Maybe I would be better if I wasn't late."

"Fair point." The next time she stepped on his foot, he remained silent. He continued to remain silent the next time after that and so on.

That was how they went on dancing for the rest of the lesson. She was trying to be mad at him, but each time she stepped on his foot, she would mutter an apology. Harry didn't mind. After rendering his foot unless for the next few days, forgiveness would an easier decision for her.

Finally, the record froze and the old phonograph played no more. There was a clap resonating from a pair of hands that silenced them all. When Professor McGonagall had all their undivided attention, she spoke. "Well done students. I expect your dancing to be poised and polished by the time of the Yule Ball. Dismissed."

Everyone made their way to the exit, the boys leading the way as they were the most eager to get out.

Harry could hear a few of the boys snickering at Ronald Weasley, saying that he sure "showed McGonagall how it's done" while mockingly dancing with an invisible figure. The youngest male Weasley paid them no attention, not even to his brothers when they ruffled his hair on their way out. Ronald was too busy watching Harry, not that Harry noticed.

As the mass was almost entirely out, one figure began going in the opposite direction, entering the room rather than exiting. Everyone merely ignored him. As they approached him, Harry recognized the figure's curly blond hair as belonging to Zacharias Smith.

Only when a majority of the students were gone and a few students remained could the Hufflepuff finally reach them.

"Harry, we need to talk." His voice urgent and out of breath. Smith glanced over at Hermione who stood beside him. "It's a pressing matter. That we need to talk about. In private." Zacharias was trying to best to sound nonchalant. He was failing.

She raised an eyebrow at the boy. "It's fine. I will leave, I know when I am not-"

"No, stay." Harry looked at them. "The three of us have many things to discuss, just not here."

As they left, they paid no attention to Professor McGonagall who watched the exchange from afar. No one had noticed the almost motherly way she looked at Harry, nor the sympathy she held for him.

There would be hard times ahead for the boy.


End file.
